


Omega Rising: Part 3

by SapphoAndThamyris



Series: The Avengers Ultimate A/O AU [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Pepper Potts, Bonding, Bucky Barnes Feels, Civil Rights, Dom/sub Undertones, Drama & Romance, Epic Battles, Epic Love, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tony, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Mating Bites, Multi, Omega Steve Rogers, Other, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark Friendship, Power Dynamics, Protective Pepper Potts, Romance, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Smut, Snarky Tony, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Stony - Freeform, Tony Angst, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-05-29 13:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 159,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoAndThamyris/pseuds/SapphoAndThamyris
Summary: Steve Rogers is a soldier, a patriot, and an omega in a world where his status makes him a second-class citizen. He never asked to be a hero. But when the world pushed him, he pushed back. Unfrozen from cryo after 65 years, he awakens to a world where not much has changed.  Bonded to Tony Stark, he navigates the 21st century as an omega with a mission.This epic work follows Steve Rogers and Tony Stark as the two grow together as a bonded pair, their lives and fates inextricably entangled.Part 3 of Omega Rising covers 2011-2012 (the period between Iron Man 2 and The Avengers), during which time Steve acts as a civil right leader, and attends an Alpha Authority conference.Updates Thursdays and Sundays. More notes inside.





	1. Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 3!
> 
> If you're just joining us, you might want to read (or at least skim) parts 1 and 2 first. But if you don't, here's what you missed: Tony, an Alpha, and Steve, an omega, are bonded. The year is 2011. The pair is struggling to rectify the fact that Steve is double-bonded to another Alpha: Bucky, who is currently MIA. Meanwhile, Steve has been booted from SHIELD for a rogue mission, and so is currently focused on his own personal projects: namely, the mysterious Project 84.
> 
> There! You're all caught up!
> 
> If you have feedback for us, we are always excited to hear from you. You can e-mail us or message us here on AO3 and we will do our best to answer questions. We LOVE comments and kudos!
> 
> Thanks for your time!

**(NOTE: We're having a naming contest!  You can win prizes.[Follow this link to suggest a name for parts 1-4 of Omega Rising](https://goo.gl/forms/owng8a7o44TBOFlv2).  Responses are anonymous and entry to the contest is free.)**

 

Steve woke up around eight with Tony beside him. For Tony, it was early, but for Steve, eight AM was a lie-in.

He dressed to go running and made toast for breakfast, half of it set by Tony's bedside and smothered in Nutella, before he went out. There was a few other joggers by the beach but that was it and they paid him no heed. The sun was up and the breeze was nice and cool. Steve relished it.

Just as hunger made food taste better, his brief foray as HYDRA's captive had made him appreciate his freedom.  Or at least, what passed for freedom.  He still had the ankle monitor that SHIELD had put on him.

He got home around nine to find Aria sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. She was nibbling on a bagel and reading the news on her tablet. "Hey, been running?" she asked with a bright smile.

Steve nodded, going to get a glass of water. "What's up? It's early."

"So... I was thinking about, like-- do you want to get a job?" Aria asked and Steve blinked. "Because you did kind of get fired..."

"Yeah," Steve hummed, "I did. But I don't really think I can do a nine till five, Aria."

"Well, I've gotten a few offers," she said, scrolling through her emails. "A lot of charities want you was a patron but with project eighty-four you're have gonna have enough on your plate soon enough.  Let's see... erm... oh! There it is! Vogue's releasing a new omega clothes line and they want you to model for it! Isn't that cool?"

"You want me to... model?" Steve asked, raising a brow. 

"Let's be honest, Steve.  Like the whole world wants you to model; you're human perfection. And they'll pay you like crazy, and it will give the 'omega fashion industry a new direction'," she said, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

"I'll think about it," Steve promised her as he went to grab an apple and then moved to the seat next to her. "But I think I just need to focus on me and Tony right now.  And I played dress-up and was put on the display back in the forties and didn't like it much.  And... well, Tony."

Tony woke up alone, in bed.  There was a plate of toast next to the bed.

He groaned weakly and got up to shower and shave, leaving the breakfast offering where it was.  He threw on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before heading downstairs; Aria and Steve were chatting, and Tony caught the last bit of their conversation.

"...did you said they want Steve to model?" asked Tony, with a laugh.  "That's ridiculous."

"...why is that ridiculous?" asked Aria, eyes narrowing.

"Don't get be wrong, Steve has an incredible body.  I mean, he's drop-dead gorgeous. But he doesn't look like an omega.  How's he supposed to model omega clothes for omegas when he's like six feet tall and two hundred pounds?"

"Omegas come in all shapes and sizes," said Aria defensively.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Tony, waving a hand.  He sidled up next to Steve, pressing their arms together, and reached down to scratch at his ankle monitor.

Tony had taken the liberty of trying to track Steve's whereabouts the previous day, eaten alive with curiosity.  But the GPS had pointed him to the middle-of-nowhere, Montana, and he was forced to conclude that Natasha had probably redirected the ankle bracelet to hide his location.  Tricky, tricky. Tony begrudgingly liked Natasha's little spy tricks.

"So what's _The Alpha_ have to say?  There was a very unflattering piece in the _Ace Sentinel_ about how it's not Steve's fault he's so out of control, obviously I'm a terrible Alpha with no real control over him and it's sad that I'm not reining him in."

"Reining me in?" Steve echoed, evidently amused at the idea. "That's cute."

"Well, _The Alpha_ thinks omegas like Steve just needed putting in their place," Aria said. "I won't go into the details, but I'm sure you can imagine. The article was actually pretty sympathetic towards you, Tony."

"Finally!  Some sympathy!" exclaimed Tony.  Aria glared at him and he added quickly, "...not that I deserve it."

"You read that piece of garbage?" asked Aria.

"Yeah, I like the quizzes.  Turns out my spirit color is orange.  I would've guessed red, but whatever."

"They want him to do the modeling gig with this female plus-size actress and a skinny guy who's an athlete swimmer, I think. All big omega names. It's about challenging physical omega stereotypes," Aria said, tapping away on her tablet without looking. "I think it's worth considering."

Steve let his fingers brush against Tony's as the other moved close. He really needed a shower after his run.

"Do you think we should do anything about the negative press, or just ride it out?" Steve asked.

Aria cleared her throat. "You guys have been offered an interview. A joint one. Banksy has also offered and we know he's on our side, what with his involvement in Status Alliance. But I didn't know if you wanted to.  You guys need space; I'm not going to shove you out there if you're not ready. I've literally only come around to run a few things by you and then I'll be out of your hair."

Tony looked to Steve at Aria's mention of yet more interviews.  "...there's nothing more to say, is there? I pushed Steve away because I was insecure about all the... all the bullshit expectations of dominance that's shoved down Alphas' throats our whole lives, and because of me, Steve was put in danger.  And him getting... getting bonded by someone else, it opened my fucking eyes. I don't care if I'm some macho, swaggering jock. I'm Tony goddamn Stark and all I care about is that I'm with Steve and that he's alive and safe and happy. Don't really care if he's _obedient_ or if people think we're weird 'cause he's taller than me. Like you said, challenging stereotypes and blah blah blah.  People who get it, get it. But we could give a thousand interviews and there will still be dicks like Malick who think Steve oughta be _reined in._ "

Aria frowned a little.  "It's not just Alphas. That's part of why Banksy wanted to speak to you, along with Tony and Irshad Nazari... you know, the UN rep for the World Omega Rights Council.  There's plenty of omegas who have been brainwashed into believing that they need Alphas to take care of them. Steve showing himself to be stronger than that... it's not just for Alphas.  It's for all the omegas out there who didn't know they could exist without Alphas."

Tony looked over at Steve, chewing on his lip.  "Well, if Steve wants to, I'm game." He leaned in to nuzzle Steve's neck.  Steve smelled strongly from his run... not bad, just Steve-like. Except that Steve still smelled _different_.  Tony felt a sharp pang in his heart and winced a little, knowing Steve probably felt it, too.  "Sorry," he muttered. "Still getting used to it."

"I'm okay for the moment. I don't want to go on TV, not right now," Steve said as he leaned into Tony's touch. He felt the tightness in his chest and then he realized it wasn't his own. But he managed not to feel guilty about it this time. "I'm kind of sick of defending myself, if I'm honest. I don't have anything new to say.  Anyways, I should go shower," Steve breathed, offering Tony a small smile to let him know it was okay. He reached out to squeeze his fingers.

"Oh. And Malick sent Tony this," Aria said and chucked an envelope across the table. It was personalized stationery. "Well, he sent it to _me,_ or rather Steve's formal posting address, so I would pass it on to Steve but addressed it _to_ Tony so he's clearly just being a dick." She waved a hand. "I have no idea what it is. I haven't received any complaints from the World Security Council or anything."

Steve stared down at the envelope curiously then looked back up at Aria."If it's possible I'd love to meet up with Irshad. But I think she can say everything I'd say on air and more. She was very impressive when I met her before."

"Oh my moms love her to pieces," Aria hummed, finishing her espresso. "Right. Let me know if you chance your mind about interviews, or modelling; I'll just try and keep the shit storm at bay so you guys can enjoy your quiet time."

"Thank you Aria," Steve said. "For everything."

Aria shrugged and stuck a cigarette between his lips. "It's my pleasure, Steve. Genuinely."

Tony squeezed Steve's fingers back, then offered him the letter.  "You can open it. Just in case it's booby-trapped or something. ...and don't smoke in the house, you know I hate that smell."  He plucked the cigarette from Steve's lips and tucked it behind his ear. 

Steve opened the letter and frowned. "It's... are these tickets? For Tony Stark plus one?" He dropped them on the table, not knowing what they were for.

Tony barely glanced at the tickets on the table.  He got invited to conferences all the time. _Bor_ -ing.

"Y'know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to just do one tiny little interview, y'know, with Banksy and Irshad, to tell omegas to be their own people and not listen to asshole Alphas and stuff.  Y'know. Little... morale boost," ventured Tony thoughtfully. He didn't add that he found both Banksy and Irshad to be very pleasant company. Young, attractive omegas... Irshad was unbonded and Banksy was bonded to a much, much older Alpha who was at about the same dominance level as Tony.  So sue him; he couldn't help noticing that. Anyways he liked them for more than just mating potential, probably. Both seemed clever. Tony certainly didn't mind sitting around listening to them talk about civil rights if it meant he got to ogle them a little. He was pretty sure you'd have to be inhuman not to notice how attractive Banksy was, or how high up on the status totem pole Irshad was.  Alphas tripped over themselves around both of them.

"Maybe," Steve sighed as he examined the tickets. "Maybe in like a week. But not right now. I'm fed up of being in front of cameras already."

"Can I come shower with you?" asked Tony.

Steve hummed, still looking over the tickets.  They said something about a conference? He frowned and looked up to catch Aria and Tony talking about sex-- _Oh God_.

"You look like you just got out of the showe--" began Aria.

"Steve's gonna get me all dirty again, though," said Tony, giving her a wicked smile.

"Eurgh.  Sorry I asked.  Have fun, you two." Aria rose.  Tony looked at Steve lovingly. Sometimes, Tony felt like Steve and Pepper were the only two good things in his life.

If he could just get the Mark VII up and running, there would be that, too.  But Tony couldn't go down to the shop without looking at the pile of photos on his desk and he remembered, with a sinking sensation, how few of those photos of his father included his father's omega, the omega that didn't get paid and was treated, not as a partner, but as a servant.

"I'll give you guys a few days to... shower," Aria grumbled. "I'll let you know if anything important comes in. See you soon Steve."

Steve nodded, his cheeks burning a little as he watched her go. He cleared his throat as the door slipped shut, letting his hand fall down to take Tony's in his.  He moved to tug Tony upstairs. He wasn't in a rush to get clean but he was quite alright with Tony showering with him.

"Did you have an okay day yesterday?" Steve asked tentatively, leading him into the bathroom before he moved to flick on the shower to get the water warming up. "I'm sorry I didn't really see you."

Tony let Steve lead him into the bathroom; he hopped up on the marble counter and sat there, swinging his legs, watching Steve adjust the shower temperature.  Tony's shower was all stone and large enough to double as a sauna; there were jets in both the walls and the ceiling, and a long bench of redwood running along one wall.  Sometimes, when he was in a foul mood, Tony would hole himself up for hours at a time. As far as temperature adjustment, it was all digital and could be voice-activated, but Steve seemed to enjoy the ritual of doing it manually.

"...it was okay.  I went to a... meeting thing.  With other Alphas. They were okay.  I probably wouldn't go back but there's free coffee and you know how frugal I am," said Tony, swinging his legs idly.

"You went?" Steve was evidently pleased. "That's great. I'm glad. I hope they're nice to you. I'm guessing they recognised you," he said, his smile warm. "I think it will help, and that you should stick with it- even if just for the coffee," he said, voice gentle.

 "How 'bout you? Did Clint have lots of cool comic books in his treehouse? Did you guys do each other's nails or was it more like swapping bubblegum and trading cards?"  He left out that he'd tried to track them.

"We had a good day. It was relaxing. We made pizza and stuff," Steve said and felt bad for holding back about Clint's family. But it wasn't his secret to tell. Once they were closer maybe Clint and Natasha would tell him themselves; Steve hoped so at least. He didn't like the thought of keeping something like this from Tony forever.

"...did they mention me?"  Tony tried to sound like he didn't care, because he was well-aware that Nat, Clint, Sam, and all the rest of the SHIELD posse was more Steve's friend than his, and they were rightfully furious at Tony for his cold treatment of Steve.

Steve moved to pull off his top, dropping it on the floor before toeing off his shoes and kicking them away because of the smell. Maybe it didn't bother Tony much but he didn't like it. Then he stuck his hand under the water, checking the temperature. It would do.

"Yeah. They asked how you were doing with everything," Steve said, stepping out of his shorts. "And I quite rightly told them you were being great with it all," he murmured and looked up to meet Tony's gaze.

Tony's eyes flicked up to meet Steve's.  For once, they weren't roaming all over his body.  "...thanks, Steve, but I got a lot to make up for. I treated you really bad.  And probably will again. As much as it pains me to admit it, I am not perfect.  ...it's kind of funny that I was so paranoid about you having another Alpha that I basically pushed you into a situation where you ended up..."

Tony sighed and looked down at the intricate design on the tile floor.  Steve knew Tony well enough to know he was calming himself down by reciting a math formula in his head.

After a moment, he looked back up.  "But the funny thing is, now that the absolute worst thing in the world happened... I don't feel paranoid anymore.  I feel like, oh, so _this_ is what it's like.  And now I can handle it.  And now, I guess, I know the worst thing in the world isn't there being another Alpha or thinking I'm not a good Alpha.  It's losing you. This was all a huge wake-up call. It was like Afghanistan all over again." Tony had begun to perk up, only to wilt as he blurted the last sentence.  "Only instead of me, it was you. And instead of building Iron Man and escaping... you got force-bonded. God, Steve. I'm sorry."

If Pepper had been around, she would have mentioned to Steve that part of Tony's cow-towed-ness was it being March.  Tony often suffered through a series of self-depreciating personal revelations in March. Sometimes they stuck, and sometimes they didn't.  Tony lost track of himself in the first two weeks every year, which is one of several reasons Pepper cancelled all his appointments during that time.  Tony couldn't be trusted to make rational decisions. Period.

"This isn't all on you, Tony. I'm responsible for my actions, just like you are for your own." Steve distantly remembered Peggy finding him after Bucky's death, trying and failing to numb the pain with whiskey. She told him that Bucky had made his own decision, that he had to respect it and not blame himself. But it wasn't like Steve had gotten force-bonded out on the front lines; there was nothing respectful about what he did.

Tony hopped off the counter. "Can I come in the shower with you?" he asked, voice small, almost child-like.

"I wouldn't have brought you in here if you couldn't," Steve reassured him gently. When Tony appeared to be stepping in with his dressing gown on Steve stopped him with gentle hands on his arms and reached down to untie it for him, pushing the fabric away from his shoulders before they both stepped under the hot spray of water. It wasn't as hot as Steve was normally run it, but he knew Tony didn't like it when it was too hot.

Steve reached for the shampoo, lathering it up in his hair and laughing softly when he blopped some of the soap of Tony's nose.

Tony's nose wrinkled and the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to repress a smile.  "Here, let me do that," he offered, reaching over to massage Steve's scalp. He examined Steve closely, not with lust so much as concern.  The nature of Steve's metabolism meant that he never remained ill or injured for long. Yemen had been so recent, yet both that and the two months preceding it had already been erased.  Steve didn't look thin or pale or a bit sick, and any and all injuries and scars had been erased. Except for the one.

Because as powerful as the serum was, it couldn't make Steve not an omega.  Steve's body didn't see the bonding mark as an injury or scar, but as a normal part of him, as perfectly natural, and it had healed itself to preserve the shape of Bucky's mouth so that during Steve's next heat, Bucky would bond him again, fit his teeth into the familiar grooves and tug on his neck while rutting into him

Tony realized he had frozen and was just standing there with his fingers tangled into Steve's hair.  But even knowing it, he couldn't quite unfreeze, because now he was thinking about his own neck, with its melted blob of scarring that sure as hell didn't look like a normal bonding mark but also was unmistakably a claim to ownership, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with him for not fighting harder or healing better...

Tony hadn't been one of those kids whose status was indeterminate.  It had been obvious he was an Alpha since he was born; he could raise his hackles willfully by the age of five.  Howard had been thrilled. And their relationship had been pretty good in those early years. It had really only down downhill once Tony hit puberty.  Although his status was obvious, no one's dominance standing was ever really clear until they'd hit puberty. And Tony had come out the other end a disappointment; he was not a powerful Alpha, like Howard, but one of the milder ones.  Everyone had assumed. They'd assumed wrong.

Tony's mind was churning through all these various thoughts like a runaway train, thinking about his lack of dominance and how that had made Steve's body choose Bucky over him, and everything that had happened in Afghanistan, and how Steve had been so much better in Yemen, so much stronger, even as an omega...

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  Panic attack: imminent. Fantastic.

"Steve," he said.  It was the one word he could think of to say and it was the most important word in the world.  His hands dropped from Steve's scalp and he stepped forward to put his arms around Steve and bury his face in the other's collarbone.  In the shower, all Tony could smell was shampoo, not Steve's new weird scent.

Now he felt guilty, too.  Like he had no right to be upset, since it was Steve, not him, who had been force-bonded.

The people at the meeting had all reassured him that guilt was an overwhelming but non-productive and illogical emotion.  It was normal to feel but he shouldn't let it eat away at him since he couldn't have prevented it.

Oh ho, but he could have, if only he hadn't been an asshole to Steve in the first place.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled into Steve.  It occurred to him, distantly, that he had probably apologized more times to Steve in a year than he had to Pepper in a decade.  His relationship with Steve was special like that.

Steve knew when a panic attack was coming by now. He could feel it in his own chest- a tightness and uncomfortableness that wasn't his own. He didn't know what had caused exactly but it wasn't hard to guess. Fortunately most of the suds were washed away from Steve's hair so it didn't matter that their shower had to be cut short.

"Hey. Hey it's okay. I know you're sorry. It's okay Tony I promise," Steve said in a mantra of words and moved to pick him up in one easy movement. He carried him into the bedroom and set Tony down on the bed before going to fetch a towel and wrap around him. Steve curled the towel around his shoulders, putting himself in front of Tony's distant gaze so he could see him. He was still wet himself but it didn't matter as he wrapped his hands around Tony and rocked him gently.

He let Tony tuck his head under Steve's chin as he kept murmuring to him and promising to him that it was okay. "We're both here. We're both okay. I'm not going anywhere Tony. I'm staying."

Of all the things he hated most about panic attacks-- the crippling fear and the difficulty breathing and the tightness in his chest and conviction that he was going to die-- out of all of it, the thing Tony hated most was how completely it hijacked his brain.  Tony was used to having a mind that could simultaneously weave multiple thoughts along with ease. During panic attacks, all thoughts ground to a halt and so did most of his basic perceptions. He just shut down, and that was something he hated.

Case in point: he was suddenly aware that he was curled in Steve's lap, no longer standing, and they weren't in the shower anymore, but he had no memory of being moved.

"You're staying.  Okay. You're staying right here," repeated Tony.  "My omega. Okay." He forced himself to take a deep breath.  He reached up shakily to touch Steve's chest. Warm, solid, _present_.  His. Here.

Steve didn't know how long they say there like that. But eventually the tight feeling in his chest began to wane, so he hoped it was for Tony too. He rocked him gently, strong arms keeping him warm. Steve didn't know what else to say other than reassurances. He didn't know what was up in the first place.

"Tony," he whispered. "Talk to me. You don't have to tell me what was it about, just talk to me about...something."

"You're staying," repeated Tony, heart pounding.

Tony felt the tension slowly ebbing.  "Omega," he repeated, quietly, letting Steve rock him.  Moments like these were, thankfully, private. Tony would have been deeply embarrassed if anyone knew, even Pepper.  But when it was just him and Steve, it was perfect. That was, in a way, what bonding was all about. Safe, controlled vulnerability.

* * *

He was vulnerable.

The sensation hit him out of nowhere.  He'd been in a phone booth (phone booths were surprisingly difficult to find for some reason), making his way through the Cleveland yellow pages.  There were only six Karpovs listed and none of them were Vasily. But of course Karpov wouldn't use his real name. So now the soldier was just calling every Russian name in the book.  He was on page 16 of thousands of pages and progress was slow because he had no money and had to call collect.

Then, out of nowhere, it hit him.  At first he thought someone had punched him in the throat.  His airway constricted, his chest tightened, and he was suddenly frozen with an unfamiliar sensation.  He looked around, wildly, but he was perfectly alone and there was no obvious reason why his body was reacting this way.

His hands were shaking, his knees were weak.  He felt himself sliding down to the floor like a raindrop; a moment later he was curled on the floor of the phone booth, arms wrapped around his knees, shaking violently.  He let out a small, weak keening sound.

Where the hell was Karpov?  Where the hell was his omega?  He had never felt more alone in his life; this was worse even than retraining sessions in that damned chair.

He set his forehead on his knees, waiting for it to pass, metal hand gripping the payphone hard enough to leave dents in it.

* * *

"Yours." Steve affirmed gently, running a hand through Tony's hair. He rested his head atop of Tony's and closed his eyes, sighing in relief as he felt the tension easing out of his Alpha. He squeezed the other's shoulders gently, wishing so badly that he could just make Tony feel better. But the whole point of this was that it was irrational, that was why it happened in the first place. "I love you Tony. And I'm not going anywhere."

When Tony was ready Steve gently eased them down in bed, throwing the towel away as it wasn't needed anymore. He dragged the duvet over them and placed a hand on Tony's chest so he would know he was there.

"I promise it's gonna be okay," Steve murmured and pressed a kiss to Tony's shoulder. He didn't know what to do to make him feel better. Right now he just wanted the other to come back to him.  "We don't have to do anything today. We can just stay in and ignore the world. We don't have to answer to anyone. It's just us here," Steve whispered and nuzzled against the curve of his neck gently, staying well away from the scar.

His mind drifted to Bucky briefly. He wondered if he'd felt it. Steve had asked Natasha to check her contacts, see if they knew anything-- but he was scared she wouldn't tell him if they did. Everyone was so determined to protect Steve now.  Especially from himself, it seemed.

"Hey," Steve trailed a finger down Tony's arm. "Are you with me?"

"Till the end of the line," mumbled Tony automatically, half-asleep.  He reached up to take Steve's hand on his chest and move it away from the arc reactor and the scarring that surround it.

 _Till the end of the line_.

Steve froze, the words sending a chill down his spine.

"Sir.  Miss Potts is here," chimed JARVIS.

Tony cracked an eye open.  "Send her up. I'm not moving."  He closed the eye again, trying to focus on his breathing, on Steve, on _not dying_.

Steve's mind was still reeling, but he was dragged back to the present when Pepper burst in, quickly tugging up the sheets to cover up his naked thigh. He liked to try and keep himself at least partly decent around Pepper, even though he had been naked that one time and thrown up on her.

In a weird way it had felt like they'd always been closer since that.

" _Tony!_  Why the _hell_ are there two tickets to the Alphas' United Conference with your name on them in the dining-- you two better not be naked under there, I swear, I'm trying to run a company and deal with the constant onslaught of--"

"What's Alphas' United?" asked Tony.

Pepper actually stopped ranting, clearly surprised.  "It's-- it's an Alpha rights group. Like, the biggest one in the world.  How do you not know that?"

Tony didn't move, still clinging to Steve.  "Why would Alphas need a rights group?"

"They don't.  That's the point.  It's a conservative group that's all about oppressing omegas and keeping them in their place, which is why I don't know why you have tickets to their conference, because if you showed up it would be political suicide.  ...are you okay?"

"Minor panic attack.  Nothing new," said Tony, face still buried in Steve's chest.  Before Pepper could ask, he added, "Not about the anniversary.  'Bout bonding stuff. I'm okay."

"Gideon Malick sent them," Steve said. "He probably thinks it's funny. When's the conference?"

"Steve," Pepper sent him a long, hard look. "I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking. But don't do it. There's just some people you don't want to piss off and _Alphas United_ is definitely one of those."

"But when is it?" Steve asked, clearly still curious.

Pepper sighed.

"It's March twenty-fifth through March twenty-seventh.  But they wouldn't let you in anyway, Steve."

"That's weird.  You'd think all those uber-dominant Alphas would _want_ their omegas there to boss around," said Tony, in the first coherent sentence since his freak-out in the shower.

"--they let in omegas, but only if they're bonded and collared.  So unless Steve wants to throw a chain around his neck, they won't let him in, and there's no way you're going, Tony, because it would absolutely destroy your public image."

"Hmm," said Tony.

"No.  No hmming."  Pepper walked around to Tony's side of the bed, and Steve saw she was carrying a stack of binders easily eight inches thick.  "I know this is probably a lousy time, but I need the two of you to sign a bunch of documents. Mostly debriefings for intelligence agencies for Yemen.  I drafted more than half of them myself. Luckily I'm also a notary public so we can just take care of this right now. Blue tabs are Tony's signature, green tabs are Tony's initials, red tabs are Steve's signature, yellow tabs are Steve's initials, purple tabs are items I'd like you to specifically review for yourself, and orange and pink are areas subject to revisions at a later date so please pay attention.  Orange was previously revised and pink is _to be_ revised."

"So there's absolutely no way at all they'd let Steve in without a collar?" asked Tony.

"Absolutely not.  Tony, did you hear--"

"But they _do_ let omegas in?"

"Yes, bonded ones, but there's no way you two are--"

"I have a crazy and brilliant idea."

"...is it signing these documents without making my life more difficult?" asked Pepper hopefully.

"It's the exact opposite of that!"

"Gideon Malick sent us those tickets to humiliate and make fun of us at a very difficult time," Steve reasoned. "The last thing he will expect is for us to actually turn up. And I would sure love to meet all their omegas. I'm sure _they_ would love for all their bondmates to be hanging out with good old out-of-control Cap." He was clearly tickled at the idea. Steve hadn't been looking to throw himself out there so soon but Malick had sent them those tickets himself. He'd made it _personal_. In fact, he'd made it personal the minute he'd implied that Steve needed 'breaking in.'

He looked down at the files, eyes wide. "When do we have to do all this by?"

"End of the week," Pepper said and put her hands on her hips. Steve though about all the effort it must have taken just to make those binders and his heart swelled with gratitude. They really needed to buy Aria and Pepper a holiday. In fact, maybe they would like that. They were good friends; they'd enjoy a break together.

"But... couldn't I just turn up without a collar on? Would they seriously not let me in?" Steve asked, trying and failing to understand. Pepper sighed.

"It's very traditional and very strict. They do everything by the rules. And whatever you're thinking Tony... don't do it."

Tony sat up, oblivious to the sheet pooling around his waist, barely covering him.  Pepper was unfazed by either the nudity or the arc reactor. "No, no, hear me out, it's an amazing idea."

"No, Tony."

"I think Steve's right, it would be good for the omegas there to hang out with him.  And listen. So the only way they'd let Steve in is with a collar, right?"

"Right."

"And the reason collars on omegas is bad is because...?" prompted Tony.

"Because they're degrading, Tony," said Pepper, who didn't look a bit amused with Tony's Socratic line of questioning.

"Right and they're designed to be a symbol of the omega's service to the Alpha.  Right?"

"Yes, correct.  Very good. Now sign."  Pepper dropped the stack of binders into Tony's lap.  "And anything with a checkmark on the tab, pass it back to me so I can notarize it."

"--okay, but, men and women wear wedding rings, and no one cares about that, right?"

"Yes, but rings are different, Tony."

Tony was visibly excited.  "Yeah, because both partners wear the ring and it's equal.  So what if--"

Pepper's eyes widened.  "Tony. _No_."

"--we showed up in _matching_ \--"

"Absolutely not."

"--collars, as equals?"

" _Anthony Edward Stark_."

"It would piss off all the Alphas but they couldn't complain, right?  Since I'm an Alpha? There's no rules against Alphas wearing collars, right?"

"Oh, Lord, Tony, no.  Please. Please, Alphas United already hates you two... if you pulled a stunt like that..."

"And remember what Aria said, about omegas being brainwashed?  Steve, you gotta get in there and talk to all those omegas with the collars and tell 'em they're equals.  And they'll listen to you... you're an omega, too, and you're bonded and you'll be in a collar... oh, man, and just imagine, remember when Malick tried to order for you, and then I stepped in?  Imagine... imagine how many times someone will try to boss you around, and then I, as you Alpha, tell you not to... they can't complain about you being out of control if I'm 'ordering' you to _be_ out of control.  It creates a paradox, see?  I'll say, 'Steve would like to speak to you,' and they'll be like, shit, I don't want to talk to an omega but I can't tell Steve not to since his mate's ordering him to... their heads will totally explode.  It'll be amazing."

Pepper reached into her purse to pull out of bottle of Advil.  "No. No. And no," she said, firmly. She reached over to tap the binder.  "Sign."

Tony looked over at Steve excitedly.  "What'd you think?"

Steve was grinning from ear to ear. "I think that sounds _amazing_."

"You boys are supposed to be taking a break!" Pepper let out a noise of frustration. "But I suppose, if it'll make you happy...I'm sure they use very good caterers," she sounded sarcastic but it was genuinely Steve's idea of a good time. Free drinks and food, all whilst undermining the Alphaocracy and hanging out with some, what he was sure would be, lovely omegas. Maybe he could take them on a night out or something, away from their Alphas.  Convince them to be as "unruly" as he was. Oh, that would be hilarious.

"I'll let Aria know," Steve said and  grabbed his phone off the bedside table, the sheets pooling in his lap to offer him some decency.

Pepper wanted to be annoyed but couldn't find it in herself. They looked more like a couple, more _themselves_ and were certainly more relaxed around each other. It was easy to see how guarded Steve had been before, but he wasn't now. He was just... himself. "The press will go _insane_ if you do this," she warned them, her eyes on Steve.

"They're already going insane." Steve waved a hand. "Maybe we can finally give them something worth talking about."

"Open bar conference where I get to see Steve in a collar?  I love it," said Tony, beaming.

Pepper cocked an eyebrow, fixing Tony with a questioning look.

"...oh, come on, Pepper.  I don't want to have the Princess Leia discussion again."

"That outfit isn't sexy, it's distasteful and humiliating and--"

"Yes, yes, yes, it's a very anti-feminist outfit, but it is too sexy, and your unwillingness to wear it five Halloweens ago was embarrassing for both of us."

"There is nothing in my job description about dressing up as slave Leia."

"Why would you want someone to dress up as slave? Surely they just looked malnourished and sad?" Steve said, not understanding why anyone would dress up as a slave. The name Princess Leia did sound vaguely familiar though.

"Yeah, well, I asked you to match me as a _friend,_ not as my PA, so I don't think it was out of line to ask!"  Tony squirmed over to press himself closer to Steve, and rested his head on Steve's shoulder.

Pepper huffed and let it go.  After seeing how Tony had been without Steve for two months, she was just glad they were back together.  Also, Tony was at present too distracted to think about the upcoming anniversary, for which she was grateful.  "Fine, do whatever you like. Just sign these documents."

Tony kissed the side of Steve's neck, ignoring her.

"Tony _please_...oh, I give up..."

"I'll make sure they get done!" Steve said as Pepper walked out, and she shot him a look that was something like gratitude over her shoulder as she went.

Tony's mouth on his neck felt nice.

"Do you seriously mean it?" Steve asked, already imagining Malick's face when they waltzed up right next to him. Did Malick have an omega? Steve wasn't sure if he was even bonded. "Because I'm definitely game if you are."

"Of course, Steve.  First of all, I get to see you in a collar.  Second of all, free drinks. Third, I hate Malick as much as you do; the guy's an asshole.  And most importantly... I really wanna support your omega rights thing. And this is something that I can do, as an Alpha.  And ever since I got to know you, y'know... things have changed for me."

Tony drew away with a nostalgic smile.  "You remember when we first met? Not when you smacked Happy onto the floor, although that was hilarious.  Not when you interviewed. I mean like your first day as my PA, when we started talking about omega rights.  And I called you uppity. And nicknamed you Sparky. And thought you were such a smug little omega... oh my God, I was just like the rest of them, I was such a tool."  

"Oh my God. I _hated_ that nickname. I still remember when you smacked my ass on the plane and it took every bone in my body to not turn around and tell you who I really was," Steve said, remembering it almost fondly now. Yes, Tony had been ignorant, but so had Steve. He'd barely understood the century he was living in. If Pepper hadn't been constantly working she probably would have noticed how inept Steve was when it came to stuff like Twitter and Instagram.

Tony shook his head, amused, then added, "In between this and giving up weapons contracting, I might not end up in hell with Dad after all."

He lapsed into silence suddenly.

Tony didn't believe in any sort of real afterlife.  He didn't think his father was either in heaven or hell or reincarnated as a housecat.  Tony simply felt that his father was dead and in the ground and that was that.

He flopped back down into the bed.  "You don't have to stay in bed all day with me," he said quietly.  "I just wanna nap for a while. 'Night, Steve." Just like that, his enthusiasm was off like a light switch.

Pepper had given Steve multiple dire warnings about Tony's mood swings and bouts of futile depression; it was best, she'd told him, just to let him ride it out.  Also, she mentioned, she watered down all the alcohol during the month of March, as a precaution.

Steve leaned down to kiss his forehead, knowing Tony would sleep best without Steve there wake him. "Sleep well Tony," he murmured against him before he pulled up and away. He got dressed before heading downstairs to find his... therapist. Did she just let herself in?

"Tony's PA let me in," Doctor Brennan said in explanation and Steve felt mildly relieved. "How's it going, Steve?"

"Good.  Great, actually.  And Pep-- I mean, Virginia isn't Tony's PA anymore."

"You mentioned before it was a hard time of year for Tony. How are you coping with it?"

"Well, he's coping-"

"I asked about _you_ Steve," she said, sounding impatient. They played this game a lot. Steve moved to sit on a couch with a sigh. He hated talking about himself like this, especially with a stranger. How on earth did people find this _therapeutic_?

"I'm honestly doing good. I'm fine." And he meant it. Spending a day with Clint and Natasha... and Laura... it had been amazing, exactly what he'd needed.

"Okay then, what's put you in this good mood?"

So Steve told her, mostly, without giving away Clint's secret wife and kids side of things. Brennan stayed for about an hour. Soon her visits would become less frequent and Steve honestly couldn't wait. It was nothing he had against _her_ , more just the whole concept in general. It was exhausting and Steve never felt better afterwards, perhaps worse.  He did not understand the 21st century's obsession with therapy.

Dr. Brennan listened to Steve with a smile.  "...I'm guessing you didn't see a lot of healthy trios in the thirties and forties," she said.  "...nowadays, it's not nearly as rare to see an omega as the father or at the head of a trio. I won't lie; it's not exactly common.  But it's certainly not taboo, either."

Their session was mostly about omegas in the twenty-first century; they didn't talk much about Steve's forced-bonding or Bucky.  At least, not directly.

If there was one thing Steve got out of therapy sessions, it was mulling over how different things were in the future.  What was normal and what wasn't, and how it compared to his own century.  That, at least, he got something out of.

He shooed her out after the hour was up with several more insistances that he was fine and good and great and that honestly, his force-bonding was not as traumatic as everyone was making it out to be.  And he meant it. 

He made lunch, set some aside for Tony, and then went through the files that Pepper had left. Steve managed not to wake Tony when he fetched them. He signed and checked everything he was supposed to, then went to go swim in the pool. After that, Steve drew in his room-- filling up a space on one of the walls with another charcoal sketch of Peggy, this time her real, older self. It felt good to acknowledge the lines in her features now. She might be older, but she was just as fierce, perhaps even fiercer.

Peggy had never let being a woman get in the way of rising through the ranks of the SSR.  Steve wouldn't let being an omega prevent him from doing what needed done, either.  He never had.

He peeked in on Tony (still passed out), then went downstairs to rustle up something for dinner. He paused when he saw the tickets on the countertop and reached over, grabbing his phone and finding the link on the website so he could RVSP.

_Tony Stark + one: place confirmed._

Steve smiled to himself and wondered just how much Malick had spent on the tickets.


	2. Stark Family Reunion

While Steve's day was productive, Tony spent his lazing around in the bedroom.  He only dragged himself downstairs as the sun was setting. He looked anything but healthy.

"Steve, I gotta question," he said.  He looked like he'd been awake for a few hours, even though he had clearly only just gotten up.  His hair was a mess. "...how come Bucky didn't collar you? Was it just because of money? If you were back in the forties, would you have ended up like all those other omegas?  Just... keeping the house clean and having babies?" He dug around in the fridge for a beer.

Steve's phone chimed.

_ > Our intelligence indicates you and Stark are going to the AU conference this month.  You know AU is a dangerous, conservative Alphas' organization, correct? Please confirm this is in error.  - Fury _

"We couldn't afford that kind of stuff," Steve said quietly, looking up as Tony walked over to the fridge. He was currently drinking straight out of an orange juice carton himself. "Because I didn't get heats properly I probably would have never gotten pregnant, or if I had, the chance of survival would have been... That life was never an option for me. It made me feel inadequate, but it was also never really what I wanted."

He pushed a bowl of pasta towards Tony. It was bacon and cheese and leek. He'd already eaten himself.

"If I had been a housewife, I would have been a very badly behaved one," Steve said, eyes twinkling. He smiled down at his phone, secretly a little pleased that Nick had texted him personally.

_ > Well Gideon so kindly sent us the tickets. It would have been rude to refuse. SR _

"...what's going on?" asked Tony, nodding towards Steve's phone.

_ > If Stark goes to that conference, he's going to look bad.  Real bad. And they won't let you in at all without a collar.  You two can't seriously plan to go. Bad idea. - Fury _

_ > It's okay. We're both going to wear collars. Equality, right? SR _

Tony stifled a yawn.  "I don't mind having a badly behaved omega hanging around.  I like sexy, naughty blonds, as you well know." He looked out the window at the pool deck, the surface reflecting the setting sun.  "...have you seen my dad's grave yet? I know you and him were... peers." He blinked, still staring out, distantly. "...maybe when we're in New York, we can go visit the Statue of Liberty, too.  You'd like that, right? Captain America?"

"Nick isn't impressed that I replied to the RVSP. Can I just say, he knew within an hour, which is just _worrying_ ," Steve said, looking down to find a text from Phil too.

_ > Fury just told me you're going to an AU conference.  Did he mean as part of a protest? Can I join? - PC _

_ > We only have two tickets. Sorry Phil. But yes, it is a type of protest I guess_. _SR_

_>   I think we're actually doing this. SR _

"No. I never saw the grave," Steve said softly, setting his phone down. "There were  a lot of graves waiting for me out there when I came back. Nothing really appealed to me about seeing them. All the Howling Commandos too... but I'd like to go see Howard's grave with you," he breathed. "The... Statue of Liberty? Sure. Why not? I guess I have to do all the tourist stuff too, eventually..."

"Oh, shut up, you love touristy stuff.  I saw those photos of you and Clint and Nat hanging out in Washington," said Tony.  He was thinking back to when he and Steve had first bonded, to the pictures on his fridge.  There had been the one of Steve giving a cheeky thumbs-up next to his own gravesite, and Natasha and Clint giving each other bunny ears in front of the Washington Monument, and--

Tony froze.  There had been a photo.  A man leaning out of a window, smoking and lost in thought, dog tags dangling.  Bucky, who Steve had described as "an old friend." What had ever happened to that photo?

Tony gave himself a shake.  "Yeah, we'll check out the Statue of Liberty and go collar-shopping.  The tabloids can make what they like of that," said Tony. He forced himself to focus on the positive side of things.  "...can you imagine all the headlines? They'll talk about us going to this conference and they'll think I've finally tamed you... and then they'll go batshit again when they realize it was just us stirring up more trouble.  Dad'd be proud."

He threw back his beer and loped down to the shop without any further comment.

Over the next week, Tony's train of thought was more disjointed than usual, with lots of off-handed mentions of his parents.  Clearly, it was weighing on his mind. However, Tony wasn't someone who was forthcoming about things that bothered him. Case in point: he hadn't told a soul when his arc reactor was failing.  He had hid that he was dying, so it wasn't at all surprising that he also refused to talk about how he was feeling. According to Pepper, he was one of the most emotionally constipated people she'd ever met.

Because none of his emotions came out in a constructive way, Tony's awful coping habits spiraled.  His drinking went up, his sleeping and eating patterns became more erratic, and he woke Steve up more than once yelling in his sleep.

By the time they were to bed on Monday, with the anniversary and the flight to New York the next day, both of them were looking a bit worse for the wear.  Tony's lack of sleep was starting to mess with Steve's. Sure enough, that night, Tony woke up at 4:30 in the morning drenched in a cold sweat, yelling.

He'd had the dream again.  He could hear his mother's voice, crystal-clear, like it was a memory.  She was alive, but barely. Head lolling. Calling for her husband, Howard.  Brown eyes filled with tears.

This dream was new.  Tony had lots of nightmares, but never this one.  He wasn't sure where the fuck it was coming from, because he had been told in no uncertain terms that his parents hadn't suffered.  That they had died on impact. But now, he'd had the dream at least a half-dozen times. The first part was hazy; he was watching the car from the outside.  The part that was clear was the part where his mother was crying. Then he'd reach for her, then he'd wake up.

He thrashed off the sheets and accidentally kicked Steve before falling onto the floor.

"Fuck! Sorry." He hadn't told Steve about the dream.  No point. Honestly, he felt like it was stupid that he still even thought about it, at his age.  They'd been dead a long time.

Steve worried about Tony over the next week but there wasn't much he could do. He made him food, but it was out of Steve's control if Tony actually chose to ate it. He calmed him best he could when he woke up from nightmares and gave him bottles of water when he drank too much (which was too often).

He fell back into a usual routine. In the morning he went jogging, but that was all. Maybe he would lose some of the more intense muscle definition he had but he didn't really mind. There was no point spending six hours a day in the gym if he wasn't going to do anything with it. Besides, now Steve had bigger things on his mind: like Project Eighty-Four. At the moment he was just spending half his days on the phone to lawyers, mostly omega ones, that Aria had put him in touch with. It was slow starting, it was just conversations, but it was a promise of what was to come.

Steve couldn't get back to bed after being kicked awake; he got up and went down to the gym to smack around some bags before getting in the shower.  He jogged downstairs to make Tony his favorite breakfast, hoping to tempt him to get up, but Tony seemed resolutely determined to sleep in.  Steve decided to let him.

He dressed in dark coloured clothes, wanting to be respectful, after he'd left the plate of food by the bedside. Happy was in the kitchen when he went back downstairs, and even as Tony's driver, he seemed morose. This was clearly a hard day on everyone.

"Good morning Steve," he nodded, holding a tea in both of his hands. He'd gotten here early. Today definitely wasn't a day when he'd want to risk being late. Happy was wearing a dark grey shirt instead of his usual white one. "How's he doing?"

"I don't know about in comparison to other years but...okay," Steve breathed. "Will it get better, after today?" he asked hesitantly and Happy just shrugged.

"Usually he gets over it within a day or two," said Happy somberly.  "But you know Tony.  The Afghanistanniversary kinda makes the whole month shitty."

"Afghanistanniversary?" repeated Steve.

"...that's what he calls it."  Happy checked his watch. Tony was chronically late and today was no different.  Pepper had once remarked that Tony having a private jet wasn't a luxury, but a necessity, since he'd never be able to make a commercial flight on time.  "Ginny told me that you two are going to the Alphas' United conference. Isn't that co-hosted by the Gentlemen Alphas' Club? You know what you're getting into, right?"

Tony appeared just after Steve began answering.  His tie was undone (typical) but otherwise he looked well-groomed.  Frankly it might have been just another business day; he was in a black suit and in a burgundy tie, but aside from the demure colors, he looked fairly well put-together.  He'd thrown on a pair of sunglasses already, which indicated he probably hadn't put in contacts. His beard and hair were neat and he was fiddling with a watch as he descended the stairs.

"Okay.  Let's go."

"Great.  Ginny's in the car."

Tony peeked at Happy over the edge of his glasses.  "...you mean Pepper?"

"Right, Pepper."

Tony frowned.  Normally he would have begun an argument but he didn't.  He took Steve's hand lightly and followed Happy out to the car.  Pepper was in the backseat, scanning through a ledger. She handed Tony a folder when he got in beside her.  "Here's your itinerary."

"Thanks.   _Ginny._ "

Pepper barely glanced up.  "Oh, good, you finally learned my real name."

Tony flipped open the itinerary.  As long as they were in New York for a week, Pepper had crammed in a few tourist trips for Tony and Steve, plus a couple of board and shareholder meetings for Tony.  She also wanted to meet with some contractors about a new building she was planning. The central seat of Stark Industries was technically in New York, but the Los Angeles building had been catching up... that is, until it had been partially destroyed in 2008 by Tony and Obadiah.  Although they were rebuilding, Pepper had decided they might as well expand the New York location as well, and had an idea for a tower that would include both business and R&D offices, and be entirely self-sustaining. Tony had begrudgingly agreed to support her on the project but as far as anyone could tell, it mostly involved him signing off on things and not really helping whatsoever.

"I scheduled time for you two to do some of the things Steve might be interested in.  Statue of Liberty, Coney Island, a trip to Brooklyn--"

"Thanks," said Tony.  His tone was flat, and distracted.  It was clear that his mind was elsewhere.

The car lapsed into silence for the rest of the ride to the airport.  Tony's plane was idling in front of the hangar; Charlie, the pilot, was sitting on the steps reading a comic book.  She put it away when she saw them getting out of the car. Unlike Happy and Pepper and Steve, Charlie was in her usual get-up, which was cargo shorts and a t-shirt that featured a rabbit wearing headphones.

"Morning, boss," she said.

"Hey, Charlie," said Tony flatly.  The two of them exchanged a fist-bump before Tony got on the plane, flopping into the nearest chair with a heavy sigh and turning to stare out the window.  He didn't move for the whole trip, not even to get a drink.

It was clear that Tony wasn't in the mood for talking, or people in general. Pepper made light conversation with Steve on the plane, showing him some new interview opportunities. Then, to past the time she put on an a few episodes of one of her favorite shows, something called _Friends_ just to pass the time. Tony remained uninterested in it. The show seemed funny enough and it made Pepper smile. Steve watched it with his notebook in his lap, writing down references he didn't understand to look up later.

The journey wasn't long. Charlie landed them comfortably. And then they were back in the car with Happy driving them. Charlie gave Steve a small smile as he stepped off the plane. "Good to have you home, Cap," she smiled. Steve offered her a small nod in return.

Steve's hand itched into take Tony's into his in the car, to interlink their fingers together; but he wasn't sure the other would appreciate it. He let his hand sit between them in the seat, a silent offering, but not pushing for anything.

The car drive was quiet. No one said much. Happy put the radio on and let a classical music station play. Steve leaned his head against the window, his eyes half slipping shut. It had been a long morning already.

Happy began to slow down as they neared a church and graveyard. He graveyard looked huge, a lot of the memorials elaborate and fancy in form. There was countless statues of men and angels and there was no grave without a headstone. Pepper sat up in her seat and Happy wordlessly moved to turn the radio off. There were a few minutes of silence.

"Want us to wait in the car, boss?" Happy asked as he turned in to park, referring to himself and Pepper.

"Yeah.  You can come, Steve," added Tony.  "I'll just be a sec."

Happy and Pepper both knew "a sec" in Tony-language meant "thirty minutes to three hours."  Pepper gave Steve a little nod; Tony had never asked anyone to come with him before. Aside from Obadiah and Jarvis, Tony always did this particular ritual alone.

Tony opened the door and stepped out.  Compared to Los Angeles, New York in March was chilly; the ground was covered in a layer of packed ice and slush, giving the graveyard a demure look.  Tony picked his way through the crunchy layer of snow and led Steve across the yard, finally stopping.

Steve nodded back before following Tony out of the car. He zipped up his jacket against the cold but didn't pull the collar up, not wanting to seem like he had anything to hide. He walked alongside Tony into the graveyard, their fingers brushing together, but not grasping.

Tony stopped.

"Well, there they are," he said, gesturing.

He sucked in a breath when they got to the graves. Steve frowned a little. It was so strange to see Howard's name there engraved in stone. It made it so much more real- that that the ladies man Steve had known, with the shrill laugh and the charming smile, was gone. He thought to the vision Wanda had given him where Howard had been taking him dancing and a strange sense of eeriness washed over him.

The stones were large blocks of marble, surprisingly tasteful.  The date of death for Howard and Maria was the same, March 15th, 1986.  Their inscriptions were fairly basic. Maria was "loving wife and mother," Howard was a "patriot; relentlessly inspiring, uncompromisingly brilliant."

It was strange to see Howard like this.  Born in 1917, with a little dash that represented seventy long years of life, a life that went on while Steve was frozen.

Steve noticed that Maria was buried to Howard's right, and to his left was Edwin and Ana Jarvis ("loyal and faithful companions").  It was fairly conventional for trios to be buried with the omega on the left.

"...you can talk to them if you want," said Tony after a few moments of staring at the stones.  "I don't," he added, unnecessarily. Tony didn't see any point in it. They were dead, after all, and couldn't hear him, and even if that weren't the case, what would he say?

He stood there motionless, staring, his mind no doubt buzzing with thoughts.  But his face was a mask. He might have been contemplating a piece of art.

Steve bowed his head in respect and murmured softly under his breath. " _Cher Seigneur, donne-nous de la force dans nos temps de perte. Souvenons-nous de ce qui était précieux, retenons ce qui a été perdu. Pouvons-nous être reconnaissants pour notre passé partagé, et pleurer notre avenir perdu. Amen_."

He lifted his head up. "It was a prayer the French soldiers taught us on the front line," Steve said quietly. "I always liked it. It brought me comfort."

Tony stared blankly.  He guessed it was good that the words brought Steve comfort, although he, like his father, thought organized religion was kind of stupid.  He doubted that, if there were truly an all-knowing and all-seeing god-like creator being, it would give two shits about what mortals were up to.  He knew his mother had been raised Catholic, like Steve, and she occasionally would drag Tony to Easter mass. It was just as indecipherable to Tony as when Obadiah occasionally dragged him to schul.  Tony had sat patiently through these long rituals while drinking in the pageantry of it, examining it with a critical eye. He never felt any real connection to the faith, but was fascinated instead by the architecture of the buildings and the fluid synchronization of the people as they recited foreign words.  Attempts to impart any sort of religious inclinations in Tony were utterly ineffective; Tony also didn't believe in either Santa or the tooth fairy. Santa had never been part of the Stark household, and as for the tooth fairy, Tony had already lost two teeth before Howard and Maria had been informed by his nanny.  Howard had given him a firm handshake and a twenty-dollar bill. Maria had hugged him and asked to see the teeth, to which Tony had casually informed her that all of the teeth were currently involved in experiments in his room. He had read that calcium could be melted at a temperature of about 842 degrees centigrade and was curious if he could find a way to melt teeth.  Unfortunately, teeth, being made of calcium _phosphate_ and covered in enamel, were proving impossible to melt.  Calcium orthophosphate, he'd learned, had a melting point of 1670 C, and so he'd resorted to chemical experiments, including popping his baby teeth into bowls of battery acid.

Maria had promptly trashed the entire experiment and yelled profusely at Lupita and Aaliyah for letting Tony keep open bowls of battery acid in his room, while Tony had yelled in the background, furious at his mother for dumping out his precious teeth, which, he was sure, were hours away from degradation.  Alas, he would never know, because the rest of his teeth were either swallowed or confiscated by overbearing nannies who'd been scolded earlier by his mother.

He stared at the graves, hands clasped behind his back, unmoving.

Originally he'd done this with Obie.  For a few years. Then he'd done it as a matter of appearances.  Now it was habit. Beneath the earth, his parents were probably long-gone, reduced, at best, to a heap of bones and hair and teeth, like those he'd placed into trays of battery acid when he was a child.  They didn't know he was there for them and they couldn't care, because they were dead.

Frankly he thought Steve's prayer was incredibly depressing.  It was suitable for a war prayer, he guessed, but damn, it was morbid.  Also, how dare Steve mourn Howard. It was Howard who mourned Steve. It was Howard who was always talking about Steve as "the only good thing I've ever done" and "my greatest creation" and all that shit.  And how come he'd never mentioned Steve was an omega? Did he think it was funny or something how Tony emulated him as a perfect Alpha ideal? Maybe _that_ was why Tony was such a lousy Alpha, because his role model wasn't even an Alpha at all, just one of Dad's little jokes.

Tony's relationship with his parents hadn't been "precious" and Tony wasn't grateful for his past and he sure as fuck wasn't going to cry over the future he'd never had.  So what if he was orphaned as a teenager. Good riddance; it was only a matter of time before he and Howard killed each other anyway. Perhaps not literally, although there had been plenty of times Howard had chased Tony around the house with a belt.  Tony remembered Lupita telling him it was normal for Alpha boys, going through puberty, to feud with their fathers; it was a dominance thing, perfectly natural, and they would get over it. But they never had. Howard had died without any sort of resolution to their feud and Tony had stubbornly refused to forgive him for anything for the last twenty-five years.  If anything, Tony took a savage sort of pleasure in knowing he was withholding that.

His dad's stupid little tape had been nice and all, but one pre-recorded "I love you" didn't exactly make up for hundreds of drunken, furious nights of raised hackles and raised voices and, yes, occasionally raised fists.

And Tony couldn't help but resent the idea that the Howard he'd known, the stern drinker and steely-eyed businessman, had a rich inner life and complex past that Tony had never been privy to.  Howard had been known, in Steve's time, as a charming heart-breaker with a sharp sense of humor and an unpredictable flair for the dramatic. To Tony, the Howard Steve had known was the real Howard, and his father was a shadow of that, a man who withheld affection and approval and spent a lot of time brooding in his office.

"He blew up his DeLorean," said Tony abruptly.  "The week before he died. I had this idea, for a drone.  This was in the eighties. Yeah. He was actually pretty impressed.  Anyways. He used it to blow up the DeLorean. He loved that car. He had-- I shit you not, Steve-- he had a fuckin' grenade in his desk.  It was a lesson, see. This idea that you could weaponize anything. He stuck this grenade onto the drone with chewing gum-- _gum,_ Steve-- and blew up the car right there in the parking lot.  You know Dad. He loved big, flashy displays like that. He blew that car up and he said, you know, you could send a harmless drone into a warzone and it'd come out with a payload.  That there was no such thing as a truly harmless invention because you could weaponize basically anything. Damn. My old man, he knew how to drive a point home. Ha! Drive! It's a pun.  Anyways." Tony lapsed back into silence, staring at the stones.

They'd been standing there for at least thirty or forty minutes.  Tony seemed oblivious to the cold. Out on the path, Happy had turned the car back on for the heat; inside it, Pepper was tapping away at her tablet, keeping up with her e-mails, and Happy was reading a tabloid.

Had Howard weaponized Steve? Not exactly. He was hardly harmless, and didn't need grenades stuck to him to ensure damage would be done. But men like Howard had dragged him off that stupid stage and pushed him out into a battlefield. Or rather, they'd given him the the opportunity. If Howard hadn't flown him over Italy, Steve would have never been able to rescue Bucky, or the Howling Commandos, or the rest of them. He'd been so terribly grateful to Howard for giving him the opportunity, like he owed him something despite Steve being the one who'd seriously risked his life. It had been late at night when everyone had settled down after the return.

_The men were drinking whiskey around fires. Bucky was in medical and Steve wasn't allowed to see him. "I should just-- I should just say thanks to Howard--" he'd said, rising, until Dum-Dum had clapped a hand on his shoulder._

_"I wouldn't do that if I were you Steve. Don't want the guy getting the wrong idea."_

_Steve had frowned but sat down and spent the entire night puzzled by it. What wrong idea? Steve just wanted to say thank you, didn't he?_

Steve didn't think he'd seen Tony this serious before. Okay, maybe once. Maybe when he was sat by Steve's bed in the hospital and they were waiting to see what Gleason had to say about his neck. That moment felt world's away now. He knew that their father-son relationship was complicated, even more so about Steve's revelation on what Howard had tried to get up to. But it had felt good to tell him, in a weird way, Steve hadn't liked it hanging over them.

The story about the car seemed a strange one to tell at a graveyard. Steve could feel a tight conflicted knot in his own chest but knew it was Tony's emotions he was feeling. He wanted to reach out and take his hand but they were clasped so tightly behind his back that he didn't dare try. Tony was wired tight right now. Steve didn't want to make him snap. His love for his own mother had been simple. He remembered visiting Sarah Roger's grave the first year after her death. Bucky had bought a fancy bunch of flowers and Steve set them down alongside pictures he'd drew. Then they'd stood there for about twenty minutes, Steve's head against Bucky's arm. Then they'd left and Bucky took Steve home, cooked him his favorite meal... and life had just carried on as normal.

"You can love someone, even if they treated you badly," Steve said softly, not entirely sure why he was saying this. "It doesn't make you any less of a person. It just makes them an idiot for not seeing it."

"Dad wasn't an idiot," said Tony.  There was no bite in his words. He sounded flat and distant; his ample brain power was being used up to keep a vice-like hold on his emotions.  He lapsed back into silence, staring at the stones still. An hour passed; Tony didn't move, still lost in his own mind, oblivious to Steve and to the light snowfall that began to come down around them.

"He was an idiot not to appreciate you as much as he should have," Steve disagreed softly. Howard was the epitome of an idiotic man who didn't think with his brain first, at least when Steve knew him. He got into plenty of tangles with girls, multiple girls, and if he'd just stopped and _thought_ for a second before he'd gone and kissed Angelia in front of Becky, then the latter would never of slapped him and cut holes in half his shirts.

Steve wanted to put his arms around Tony, but everything about his posture said he didn't want to be touched. It was getting cold, they should have brought proper coats, but they hadn't. Steve just stood by Tony, which was what he was supposed to do, and let his thoughts drift. He thought about what he could say to make Tony feel better but came up blank. He felt oddly useless and wasn't entirely sure he'd been brought along. Because he knew Howard? Was that it? All Steve felt like was a witness to Tony's grief- but if by somehow standing here he was making the other feel better, then it was worth it.

"Tony?" Steve said softly after an hour has passed. There was snow in Tony's hair, stark white against the chocolate brown. "It's getting cold out."

Tony looked up slowly.  "...yeah," he agreed, still not moving.

If Tony's actions could be called anything, it would be "waiting."  But what he was waiting for was unclear, even to him. His parents weren't coming back and there would be no closure.

He took a couple steps forward and laid a bare hand on the icy marble of his mother's tombstone, staring at it for several more long minutes.  Then he nodded.

"Let's go."

Tony shoved his hands into his pockets and, shoulder hunched up against the snow, made his way slowly back to the car.  He didn't look back.

* * *

He was in New York.  He'd been on the move continuously since Wanda and Pietro had disposed of him; he went where ever felt right.  His time was dedicated to trying to figure out where Steve was and where Karpov was and who the hell he was. The whole world had a strange, dream-like quality to it, and he floated around searching, feeling like he was trapped in some sort of bizarre waking dream.  Without the medicine, he spent several long nights shaking uncontrollably and vomiting. But sickness, hunger, and cold were not things that could easily stop him. He soldiered on because that was all he could do, all he knew how to do. Giving up or quitting had been programmed out of him.

His strange sense of intuition had taken him here, but now that he was here, he wasn't sure why.  He felt like he'd been ordered to come here, but the _why_ of it was unclear.  He was on a winding road with two narrow lanes and not much traffic, and he stood off to the side, staring, shivering, convinced he was here for a reason, but unable to discern what that reason was.  It felt important, certainly, life-changing, even. But it was like a wisp of smoke; he couldn't possibly hope to grab it. He watched a car go past, and felt a small pang of some ancient memory, but it disappeared when the car rounded the bend in the road and disappeared.

He lit a cigarette, his second to last one, and stood stock-still by the side of the road, hoping his purpose would reveal itself in time.


	3. Fanmail

Tony and Steve climbed stiffly into the backseat of the SUV after crunching their way through the dusty snow in the graveyard; the car was incredibly warm after spending two hours in the chilly outdoor weather.  Pepper looked up but made no movement. Happy didn't look back at all.

"Where to, boss?"

"Hotel," said Tony leaning against the door and staring moodily out the window.

They drove back to the hotel in silence.  When they got there, Tony stalked up to their suite, strode into the bedroom, and slammed the door in a way that indicated he didn't want to be bothered.

Steve hated feeling so powerless. It wasn't that he would ever manipulate Tony, but he usually had quite a good sway over his emotions. Steve could usually make him feel better when he was down but he wasn't sure he could do anything this time. The whole drive back had been painful. He'd wanted to take Tony's hand but both of them remained firmly shoved into his pockets.

He watched Tony slam the door behind him and felt a tug in his gut.

"...this is probably the smoothest March we've ever had," said Pepper once Tony had disappeared.  She gave Steve a small, tired smile. "He always goes alone. I'm glad he had you out there. ...here's your itinerary for the rest of your trip.  There's nothing for tomorrow, just in case Tony's still, you know... under the weather. But the day after that I scheduled three meetings with jewelers to talk collars with you two, assuming you still want to pull this publicity stunt at the Alphas United conference, which, I can't emphasize enough, I highly discourage."

Steve took the itinerary and flicked through it. "He sent us the tickets. I think he kind of asked for it," he said, moving to place the itinerary on the desk. The view out of the windows was stunning. Steve didn't want to think about how much the hotel must cost them a night.

Pepper sighed fondly. "Those kind of Alphas. They're a different breed. You're going to put in a whole room full of Malicks, where no one respects you as a person, Steve."

"Been there before," Steve pointed out. "And it's only three days this time."

Pepper hummed, sounding unconvinced. "True. Well, it's late Steve...let me know how it goes. I probably won't see you two until the board meetings. But call if you need anything," she said and then she surprised Steve by pulling him into a hug. She squeezed him. "Thank you," Pepper murmured. "For being here. You have no idea."

Steve felt all funny inside when she pulled back and met her smile with one of his own. "Night Pepper. Take it easy."

She laughed. "Easy?  You're joking," Pepper said and patted his arm before pulling away. "Night Steve."

Steve watched her go and then turned back, heading towards the bedroom. He swallowed and then knocked on the door before moving to open it. "Tony?" He called out. "Can I come in?"

Tony heard the tentative knock and briefly considered telling Steve to go away.

But having already done that once, in January, Tony couldn't bring himself to.  "Yeah," he called. He'd curled into the bed, still in his slacks and shirt. He'd at least taken off his shoes and jacket, and loosened his tie, but that was as much effort as he could be bothered to put into undressing.  He'd grabbed a bottle of scotch from the mini-bar in the room and curled under the comforter, suddenly aware of how frozen he was. Standing still for two hours outside had numbed his fingers and ears and nose; the snow in his hair got the pillow wet, so he threw it aside and grabbed a new one.

"...hey," he said softly when Steve inched in.  It struck Tony, not for the first or last time, how strangely intimate their relationship had become.  He had never been this close to literally anyone else in his entire life, not even Pepper. He had bonded Steve out of pure instinct, without thinking of the long-term implications of a lifetime partnership.  Without realizing that, for the rest of his life, he would have another person to share his defeats and triumphs with.

He scooted over a little to make room for Steve in the bed, a silent invitation to go ahead and join him.  Tony didn't want to talk but he also couldn't stand to push Steve away again. Never again. Steve was his omega and letting him go for two months, to be taken by some other Alpha, was easily the worst decision Tony had ever made.

"You excited to show me Brooklyn later?" asked Tony.  His tone was still flat, but he was trying. He paused, then added, "We can visit your mom, too, if you want.  She's in Brooklyn, right?" Tony's own parents were in Long Island, where he'd been born and raised. He couldn't help but notice, when they drove by the estates and country clubs and golf courses and stables and other such areas on the way to the graveyard, the occasional Alpha-omega pair.  He'd espied one where the omega was wearing a collar and looked away, hoping Steve hadn't noticed. Tony had never really paid attention to the fact that he had been bred and raised in a conservative, upper-crust, obscenely wealthy slice of society. Coming back with Steve had made it painfully obvious.  Every house was huge, a mansion, really, and all the cars had chauffeurs. Tony had felt an acute sense of embarrassment which he'd tried to dismiss by reminding himself that it wasn't really his fault Steve had grown up poor; besides, Steve was from the Great Depression, _everyone_ back then was poor.

"Hey," Steve returned softly and went to sit down next to him, smiling faintly at the invitation. "I... I imagine there won't be much to show. I assume it's changed a lot in the past few years, huh? Aria's thrown the word 'hipster' around a lot. Whatever that means." He went quiet at the mention of his mother. Steve distantly remembered his amnesia after the ice, not being able to remember his mother's face.  Guiltr tugged at his gut. But he could always remember the day she died vividly, the way she'd clung to his hand so tightly...the way Steve had cried when Bucky had made him let go.

_"You've got to let her go Steve," he'd said, hands warm on Steve's waist. "You have to. She won't go until you let her."_

Steve blinked back to the present. "Maybe another time," he murmured. Two graveyards in one visit would definitely put a downer on the trip. "Pepper said we don't have anything for tomorrow, but stuff the day after. So we can just laze about, whatever you want." He turned to face him and saw Tony's expression. He reached up and brushed dark hair away from the other's eyes.

"Hey," he said softly. "We don't have to talk. We can just lie here, if you want. You wanna do that?"

"That's normally what I do," replied Tony quietly.  There was no grand secret to his process. On March 15th, he stood by the graves for a while, then went back to the hotel, drank a fifth, and passed out for a day or two.

Actually that was how Tony handled most emotionally devastating things.  His kidnapping had been different because there had been no alcohol in the cave and also Yinsen had been hovering around, pushing him in all the right directions.

Yinsen had died at the end of April.  April 26th, if Tony recalled correctly.  He had named the last week of April his Afghanistanniversary and for some reason it didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.  Perhaps because that was one of the few times in his life he felt he'd truly taken responsibility for something, faced it head on. Dealt with it like a man and an Alpha.

Tony swigged the last of the bottle and let it drop to the floor with a sigh, tugging the duvet over his head.  Steve's presence was warm and heavy and solid next to him. Tony doubted he'd ever get used to just how enormous Steve was.

"Then that's what we'll do," Steve said with a small smile. He moved to take off his clothes, folding them neatly over the back of the chair before he got back into bed with Tony. He grabbed the bottle and put it on the dressing table so it was easier for room service to clean up.

"...I'll feel better in a day," muttered Tony quietly as the alcohol rocked him to sleep.  "Good night, omega. I love you."

Steve curled around Tony, running a hand through his hair until he fell asleep. Least he could be here for him like this, even if he couldn't make anything better really. It didn't take him long to drift off after Tony. He dreamed of the war, of distant gunfire and explosions- but nothing that distressed him especially. It was nothing new. Steve woke up a few times in the night, but not in a cold sweat or anything like that.

He woke before Tony in the morning. It was around eight. Steve knew he wouldn't wake for a while, especially after everything he'd drunk the night before, so he went down for a swim in the pool. There was no else around except for an old woman who looked about eighty and evidently didn't recognise him.

"You stop to take a breath?" she asked him just as cleared his twentieth lap in about five minutes.

Steve laughed a little awkwardly. "Sometimes."

"Youth," the woman muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes before she went back to swimming much more casual lengths.

Steve went back upstairs. He just grabbed a dressing gown and sat by Tony's bedside, stroking through his hair gently as he slept before he reached for the phone. He ordered them a proper breakfast, with waffles and everything, hoping Tony would manage to eat some of it.

Tony opened his eyes to the feeling of Steve's hand in his hair.  He liked that. His head was full of a dull hangover throb. He stared; Steve was already up, as usual, looking healthy, smelling vaguely of chlorine.  Tony didn't get morning people and he never would.

Steve was setting his phone away; there was no doubt in Tony's mind Steve had probably just ordered several hundred dollars' worth of food.

He caught Steve's eye.  Steve's eyes really were gorgeous, deep blue with little flecks of green and gold around the pupil.  Steve had movie star eyes.

"I dreamed about the accident.  ...lately I've been having this dream where I can see them.  They died instantly but in the dream, they didn't. My mom's alive and asking for my dad and I look her right in the eye and then I reach for her and then I wake up."  A pause. "I drink a lot so I don't dream. Since the whole Afghanistan fiasco, my subconscious hasn't really played nice." Another pause. "I feel better today, though."  Pause. "Y'know it's been almost a year since we met, almost? We met in April and bonded in June." Pause. "...you can count them if you want."

As usual, Tony's monologue was truly that, a monologue.  Tony thought much faster than he spoke, so at times, his sentences came out disjointed, with each pause representing probably a paragraph's worth of thought that Tony had dismissed as unimportant.  Pepper in particular was good at picking up each individual thesis statement and dissecting it. Reading between the lines was a fundamental part of communication with Tony, because when it came to anything abstract, he tended to make mince-meat of normal conversation, and the sentences didn't always connect well.  Happy said it was because he was a genius, and Pepper said it was because he couldn't stand discussing his emotions any deeper than that.

"It makes sense that you've been thinking about it," Steve murmured and moved his hand to cup Tony's cheek lovingly, the pad of his thumb dragging over the curve of a cheekbone. He wished he could just wash all of Tony's sadness away. But it certainly wasn't going anywhere. Today wouldn't be easy, but certainly easier than yesterday. He tried for a smile. "I've ordered breakfast. Got you waffles with strawberries and cream. Thought it would be easy on your stomach.  So, almost a year, huh?" Steve said. That meant he'd been awake for a year. How strange...the twenty first century still felt bold and unknown to him. But he supposed he at least understood Twitter now, and YouTube. And now he had Tony. He moved to lie down on his front next to Tony, fingers lightly curled over Tony's arm. A part of him didn't want to lose contact, like he was afraid his mate might just...drift away.

"That means your birthday is coming up soon too," he hummed. "What do you wanna do for it?"

Tony didn't react much.  "The yooj. Throw a big crazy party and maybe toss Rhodey through a wall again."  His arm broke out in goosebumps as Steve's hand rested on it. "...my birthday's at the end of May, Steve.  It's like more than two months away. Whatever. I just feel old now. I can't believe I'm forty. Ugh." The back of his neck prickled a little at Steve's touch.  "Besides, we'll be too busy planning that huge one-year-anniversary gala thing. ...thank Tesla, I'm so fucking sick of living in a greenhouse. If I never see another orchid again, I'd be fine with that."  He lapsed back into silence. He wasn't really tired anymore, having slept for as long as he had, but he also didn't want to get up. Really, Tony just wanted a shot of espresso and maybe a few shots of Bailey's to take the edge off.  But he'd indulge Steve's whole breakfast food fetish if it made him happy.

Speaking of fetishes...

"Tomorrow we're meeting with some jewelers," said Tony.  "Bulgari, Harry Winston, and Cartier are the three we have to choose from.  I'm guessing none of that means anything to you, does it? They're all very posh.  Hermès, Piaget, and David Yurman have put in bids, too. Basically everyone wants Captain America wearing their collars.  And FYI, now that the jewelry industry knows, the story that we're buying is going to break probably in the next forty-eight hours."  A pause. "Personally I am a very big fan of Bulgari. Although David Yurman has some charity foundation he's always on about so maybe you'll wanna look into that.  I don't really care. Did you know both Cartier and Harry Winston owned the Hope Diamond at one point? But I think diamonds on collars are tacky. I think we should go for something more... y'know... masculine, I guess.  Like maybe enameled gold or something."

Tony said all this with a forced lightness that meant he'd obviously done his research but was hoping Steve wouldn't notice.

Steve remembered the party vividly. It had been insanely intimidating. Even since waking up he'd never been exposed to anything like it. He must have called taxis for over ten different girls that night, cleaned up far too much sick and caught way too many people snorting lines of coke in the bathrooms.. .God, it had been exhausting. He remembered Tony being in pieces- and then finding out why; Steve's heart was in his throat when Tony had told him he was dying.

Compared to that, the charity gala would be a cakewalk.

"I hope we make a lot at the auction," Steve said softly. They would need everything they could get for Project 84. Maybe Steve _should_ take up some modelling; paying for all those lawyers was going to clean him right out. As well as giving social services all that money so they could build hostels in preparation, and funding all their interventions, and all the medical care that would be required afterwards--

 _Ugh_. Steve didn't have to deal with all that today.

"I've never heard of any of those of those brands," Steve admitted, forcing himself to refocus on the topic at hand: collars. "And that's okay. Let people speculate. It's really no one's business what we're buying or not buying." He paused for a moment. "I was kind of hoping we could some custom ones, with hidden messages on the inside-- something like, I dunno, _equality is beautiful_? I thought that might be nice, for when we take them off."  Steve leaned forward and kissed the edge of his jaw, smiling lightly. "Been looking into it a little bit, huh?" He teased gently. "I think it's cute that you're excited."

Tony's mouth twitched a little.  "A little bit," he conceded, turning slightly to return the kiss.  "M'glad you don't think I'm an ass. Well, I mean, I am, obviously, but not for this."  He rolled over to face Steve. "...you know why omegas originally wore collars?" he asked quietly, suddenly serious.  "I was reading about the history on Wikipedia... it was to protect their necks. Because if you were wearing a thick metal collar, no other Alpha could bond you.  And if you were... if you were sold at auction or force-bonded, and then met an Alpha you actually liked... whose scent appealed to you... it wouldn't matter. You couldn't be rebonded."  Tony's voice had gone quiet. "I mean, it was a way to keep forced bonds intact." Tony lapsed into silence. He was thinking of Boswell and Banksy, who seemed so happy together, but whose bond had been forced.  In all likelihood, Banksy had been sold to Boswell, like a dog or a dressage horse.

Since Steve had returned, Tony hadn't asked him to kneel and he hadn't bitten the back of Steve's neck.  Their love-making had been tender and personal but it hadn't resembled the primal sort of mating they'd occasionally indulged in.  Tony hadn't asked, partially because he was worried doing so would be insensitive and partially because the idea of biting that unfamiliar mark on Steve's neck made his skin crawl.

"That...kind of makes sense," Steve conceded. "I guess they're not really necessary now though, huh? I like to think most people have a semblance of self-control." Maybe when they weren't being controlled by psychological warfare anyway. He went quiet for a moment, laying his head down. Steve trailed a finger down Tony's arm, over the bumps of muscle and tanned skin. He was really quite pale in comparison. Steve didn't tan much. Howard had once described him as 'golden' but Steve figured he more meant the hair than the rest of them. Before the serum he used to get terrible sunburn. Bucky was always making him wear stupid hats or dragging him out of the sun and into the shade.

"Steve?  ...now that you're... bonded to him... again... you're not going to leave me, right?  We're still good, yeah?" asked Tony quietly. Steve still smelled weird and probably always would, now.

"Tony," Steve sighed and lifted his head back up. He nudged their noses together. "I told you. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Right now, Tony was fragile; it wasn't a good time to tell him that he'd asked Natasha to look for Bucky, or that Steve wanted to help him. He wasn't sure if Tony was currently capable of telling 'helping' and 'getting back together with' apart.

He nosed along the other's jawline. "I know you're not feeling good," Steve murmured. "I wanna make you feel better Tony. Tell me how how I can make you feel better."

Tony opened his mouth to make some sarcastic remark.  But his wit failed him; maybe it was Steve's sincerity.

"Stop smelling weird," said Tony, voice cracking, and he felt his eyes suddenly get watery.  He reached for Steve and buried his face into Steve's collarbone, mortified with himself, hoping Steve hadn't noticed and already feeling guilty for making a request that Steve couldn't possibly accommodate.

This, felt Tony, was a sort of penance.  For the rest of their lives Tony was going to have to deal with Steve's smell, like a scar, knowing that the reason it was there was because of him.

 _And Bucky_ , he reminded himself silently, remembering how Steve had asked him to kill Bucky when he was in heat.

If Bucky was dead, wouldn't that be the end of the bond?  Would Steve smell normal then? Would the scar finally go away?  Or at least, would Steve's body allow Tony to "fix" it?

Hmm…

Steve smiled sadly and let Tony pull in close, wrapping an arm around him as he moved to let Tony lie on top of him. He felt a lump threaten to rise in his throat and swallowed it down. "I would if I could Tony," he murmured and ran his fingers through the other's hair still, trying to calm him down.

He ran a hand down the other's back and looked up at the ceiling. It was white with some kind of textured pattern drawn across it. Steve thought he could make out birds amongst the swirling shapes.

Steve let out a ragged breath. "Is there anything I can to make it better?" He asked softly, knowing there was nothing he could do to make it actually _okay_.  "I'm here and I'm yours," he whispered. "What will help convince you of that?"

Tony nosed Steve's skin.  Poor Steve. An omega at heart; he wanted so badly to please Tony and Tony didn't know how to let him do that.  "Can I mate you?" he asked quietly.

One of the drawbacks to bonding was an inability to hide feelings.  No doubt Steve could sense and smell exactly how he felt, which was a lot less confident than he would have liked.  Tony relied heavily on bravado and swagger as a defense mechanism, but with Steve, it was impossible. The truth was, Tony was nervous about mating again.  He and Nadine had had a brief talk. Tony wasn't thrilled with the idea of talking sex with a total stranger, but Nadine had mentioned that a lot of Alphas had trouble because the necks of their omega felt unfamiliar.  "It's normal," she said. "You get used to it."

"But can't you just... bite over it?" asked Tony hopefully.

"Not really.  The bond is too strong.  Omegas' bodies will just keep rehealing with the mark of whichever Alpha they chose.  But it gets easier."

That really hadn't been the answer Tony had been hoping to hear.

He slid an arm around Steve and tentatively touched the back of his neck.  "I know it makes you feel uncomfortable. We don't have to. We can leave your neck alone," he said.

Steve shivered as Tony's question washed over him. He curled an arm around Tony's shoulders, pulling him closer. He hummed quietly and nuzzled against his cheek.

He wanted it. Steve had missed it. He wanted to feel Tony inside of him again. They'd made love so much, and it was sweet when it was tender...but he wanted them to _screw_ again. He missed them fucking, essentially. There was no spontaneity at the moment; everything was...safe.

"It doesn't make me feel as uncomfortable as it did," Steve assured him softly. "But I think-- I think I might feel better about it if you did bite it. If you did claim me again," he rumbled. "I miss it," Steve admitted quietly. "There's that instinct. I miss you..." he trailed a finger down Tony's bicep. "...claiming me like that."

"...yeah.  I miss it too.  But it won't be the same, you know.  It'll feel different for both of us. And... and I'm worried it's going to burn you," said Tony.  "I don't want to hurt you and... and what if you have a flashback or something?" Supposedly, being force-bonded was extremely traumatic.  Although Steve hadn't seemed too fucked up from it. Maybe because he didn't even remember. Or maybe because it was Bucky.

"You won't hurt me Tony," Steve assured him, running some fingers down his cheek. "I know it won't be the same...but I think it's almost more important than it was before. That might sound stupid but-- it feels more significant now somehow.  He smiled sadly. "I can't have a flashback to something I don't remember, Tony," he murmured and looked away for a moment, sadness briefly crossing his features before he seemed to push it away.

Ever since Gleason had told them that breaking the gland was painful (something Tony had never even thought of), he was now concerned that every time he would bite Steve, it would it hurt like it had for him in the hospital.  Would Steve's body think he was a rogue Alpha, trying to "steal" Steve away from his "real" Alpha?

Well.  Only one way to find out.

Tony nuzzled Steve's jaw, his fingers still resting lightly on the back of Steve's neck.  "Roll over. ...but... but tell me if it hurts, okay? Don't just let me bite it to make me feel better."

"I'll tell you," Steve whispered and nodded a little. He almost sounded nervous. But he looked determined, this clearly meant a lot to him. Steve swallowed and let Tony sit up a bit so he could roll over, his dressing gown pooling down over one shoulder and exposing pale white skin.

Steve shrugged Tony off of him and rolled over, shrugging off his gown.  Tony lay back down on him, front to back. Steve's neck looked well-healed.  If Tony forced himself to look at it objectively, like it was just some omega and not _his_ omega, it looked perfectly normal.

He touched it, tracing it.  Steve kept shivering beneath him.  If he were an Alpha, his dander would be up, but of course, omegas couldn't bristle the backs of their necks like Alphas.

"It's okay.  Good omega," murmured Tony.  He leaned down, kissed the mark, nuzzling it with his lips, trying to find any familiar ridge.  His own mark was still there, mostly gone, though. Still, he could see one or two small dimples that were slightly out of place from the primary mark, left there by his own teeth.  "Okay... here we go..." He put his mouth gently over Steve's skin.

Before, he'd simply bitten, sharp and hard, instinctually, and his teeth had always found the mark perfectly.  The second his mouth was over Steve's neck, though, he felt nothing but a sort of painful confusion, because the scar was no longer fitted to his teeth at all.

He bit down, gently, trying to find any sort of familiarity.  Yes-- there were the marks for the upper canines. He bit harder, a little more confidently, tugging on Steve's skin, wrapping his arms around his omega's body.  He felt a bloom of heat between his legs and he let out a soft growl of pleasure.

Steve's neck felt wrong and tasted wrong, but there was still a hint of his ownership.  And it was still Steve.

Steve trembled as Tony's fingers traced over one of the most intimate parts of him. He realised that the collar people that met tomorrow would notice Tony's fresh hite mark- they'd be able to see it, they'd see his claim. Steve kind of liked that. He supposed Tony would too.

Tony's mouth was hot and wet against his neck. Fortunately no 'flash backs' came to mind. There was no hazy memory trying to push its way through. It was just him and Tony. They were alone. Steve was here for him. _He was here for him_.

When Tony's teeth sank into his neck Steve felt a spark low in his belly. He grunted and squirmed and felt Tony getting hard on top of him. He felt his own body responding in kind. It felt different in a way he couldn't really describe or comprehend- but he could stomach it. It still felt _good_. And it would feel even better once--

"Tony," Steve said, voice low as his hands fisted in the sheets. "I want you to fuck me."

Tony growled in reply, his arms still wrapped around Steve.  He reached down to fumble with Steve's gown, pushing it up to his hips.  He didn't want to let go of Steve and he didn't want to stop biting Steve.  He let go of him reluctantly with one arm to undo his zipper, but he wasn't in the mood to undress completely; he wanted to comply, to _fuck_ Steve, hard and fast and without giving two shits if there were clothes in the way.

He pressed his erection against Steve, already throbbing with anticipation, mouth still filled with Steve's skin.  Steve's body was arching under his, reflexively; Tony's fingers were digging into Steve's ribs.

Steve sighed when he felt Tony's hard on against him and rocked back against him. He moaned quietly, invitingly. "Please, please... Tony. I need it," he whined. He cant his hips up as Tony tried to push him, encouraging him to line up with Steve. It hurt when he first pressed in, not a lot, but it did. Steve grunted low in his throat as Tony pushed deep inside of him.

This wasn't nearly as bad as Nadine had warned him.  Tony gave Steve a couple of good prods; Steve's body resisted and then there was that familiar feeling of give, and Tony shoved his length inside his omega's hole; Steve was moist, not exactly wet, there had been no foreplay, but that wasn't really what this was about anymore, it wasn't about intimacy or love-making, it was just about satisfying a deep, primal desire, and in that way it was perfect.

Tony wriggled his hips, seeking more, wanting to knot him, wanting that more than anything; he felt Steve's body stretching, protesting, tense, taut--

Steve gasped out an empty breath, his cheeks stained a dark pink. "Fuck," Steve breathed, the air knocked out of him as one leg fell off the side of the bed, letting Tony sink in deeper.

Then, yes, finally, there it was, Tony's knot squeeze into Steve and he automatically _bit_ \--

Something gave beneath his teeth and suddenly his mouth was flood with a dark, bitter, astringent taste.  Tony let go immediately, spitting. " _Argh_!"  If Tony had to describe it, he would had said it tasted almost exactly like raw aloe. 

Steve whimpered; his neck burned and Tony was pulling away and spitting on the floor. His knot throbbed almost painfully inside of Steve. He felt something wet slip down the curve of his neck. He shuddered. "Tony?" He asked quietly, sounding almost afraid. "What-- what was that?"

"Ugh... ugh, ugh, ugh... nothing... I mean... nothing," said Tony, still trying to spit the taste out.  No luck. A bead of clear fluid trailed down Steve's neck. "I think-- fuck-- it's fine, I think I rebroke the gland-- are you okay?"  Tony hadn't even realized he'd been holding back, but he had been. He hadn't been biting Steve, not really. Not until he got the knot in.  Then he'd snapped and-- dear, sweet Edison, had it always tasted so _bitter_?

It clearly wasn't nothing. Steve's hands trembled a little as they curled up in the sheets. Was it always going to be like this? Was he always going to be...broken? He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and his eyes threatened to well up. He pressed his face against the mattress and let out a shuddering breath. "It's never felt like this before. It doesn't hurt, it just-- I don't know; it feels different," he said, then sniffed against the pillows.

He wasn't getting anymore wet like this and Tony big and hard inside of him was getting increasingly painful. Steve swallowed. He needed to get turned on, fast, or Tony needed to get out of him. He couldn't deal with this. Steve couldn't help but feel like he was letting Tony _down_ somehow...

"Are you okay?"  They'd both stopped.  Tony was still knot-hard and pressed into Steve, but the feeling of uncontrollable lust and primal mating need was gone, courtesy of that bitter taste in Tony's mouth.  He was still plenty hard and plenty turned on, but his brain had rebooted from "fuck" mode and now he could think rationally again.

Another bead of fluid slid down Steve's neck, tinged pink with blood.  Tony reached up to wipe it away with one finger. "Does it hurt?"

Steve turned his head to the side. "Maybe-- maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you _did_ hurt me," he whispered.

Tony heard Steve sniff and then Steve turned his head and murmured that Tony could go ahead and hurt him, and Tony felt a sharp tug of misery in his heart.

"Oh, Steve... Steve, no... no, I don't want to hurt you... this isn't your fault."  Tony wrapped his arms around Steve against and nuzzled his hair. He was still on top of him, and between Tony's knot and Steve's body clenching, they were stuck.  But Tony wasn't feeling especially turned on anymore. "Steve, it's okay... everyone said it'd be hard the first time... ignoring the obvious boner pun about it being hard, look, this is normal, this is okay, we'll figure this out.  It's only the first time we tried. It feels different for me, too, but hey, it's not all bad... part of my mark's still there... I can get used to it..." (Tony wasn't actually certain on that one. He might not get used to it. He could still taste it and honestly it was awful.)  "...I'm not going to hurt you," he said, in a low, firm voice. "I'm your Alpha and I'm supposed to protect you, and that's what I'm gonna do. Once we figure out this mating thing, it's gonna be awesome, okay? For both of us, not just me."

He gave a small, experimental tug of his hips.  "I need to get out. Can you-- can you, like, unclench?  You're sort of-- sort of gripping it really hard." He gave another tug but the feel of Steve on his knot was only getting him aroused.  "...we can just make love. Without touching your neck," he offered.

He could still feel Steve's misery; it was palpable.  Steve felt guilt and disappointment and even a hint of fear.  All normal emotions for an omega who felt like they'd let their Alpha down.

"Steve.  Steve, you're doing great, seriously.  I'm really glad you let me mate you and let me bite you again.  It's okay that it didn't go exactly like we expected. Not your fault.  I love you. You're a good omega." Tony nosed his hair again. "You're my omega.  And I love you."

He didn't add that he couldn't stop tasting the gland's serum and that, holy shit, it was _really_ awful.  It was seriously one of the most bitter things he'd ever tasted.  Was that normal? Who should he call about this? Pepper? Nadine?  Dr. Gleason? Who the hell would know what Steve was supposed to taste like?

* * *

The soldier had made camp in an empty house that was for sale.  He'd snatched a few newspapers and magazines from a local convenience store and had been pouring over them, trying to figure out... well, anything, really.  Some of it he didn't comprehend. But some of it he did.

He was currently reading an article about Steve, which featured a picture of him.  He traced the blond's face longingly, remembering his smell, his taste, a smoky, piney musk with a salted caramel finish, a taste that reminded him of Coney Island and bright summer days on the boardwalk and winter nights in crowded tenement buildings and snowball fights with bright red scarves.  Everything about Steve was a nostalgic hint of memories that the soldier currently did not have access to, but ones he was confident were important and useful.

What he wouldn't give to hold Steve again, kiss him, bite him... they'd been so close to mating and he felt thoroughly annoyed that another Alpha had shown up and stolen Steve away.  He'd tried his hardest to protect Steve, to cover him, but it hadn't mattered. He'd failed his objective, which was protecting Steve, and in turn forfeited his reward, which would have been mating Steve.  At least, he was pretty sure that's what Steve had implied. He wasn't 100% on that but he assumed Steve would have given him the go-ahead or at least let him know if he wasn't allowed.

Steve had been elevated to Karpov-worship levels of adoration and the soldier was dividing his time equally between trying to find the two of them.  Steve was actually quite easy; thanks to the media, the soldier could keep tabs on him easily. He was staying at the Allegria Hotel in Long Beach for the next week, according to the tabloids, though he could be expected to spend time in Manhattan with Stark.  The soldier had taken the liberty of sending along a few things to the hotel, but didn't bother trying to go there himself. According to the tabloids, there was a detail of six beta bodyguards that Steve was chummy with, and the soldier didn't want to hurt anyone Steve cared about, and also didn't give a shit about betas. 

Karpov, on the other hand, was proving impossible to find.  Having made his way through the phonebooks for both Cleveland and Cincinnati, the asset was forced to conclude that he'd have to resort to other methods.  He would have liked to go to Ohio to search for him in person but he was so close to Steve he could almost taste him and he just couldn't bring himself to leave New York, knowing that Steve was only a few miles away.  He hoped that Steve was thinking about him, too. He touched the picture again, longingly, wishing Karpov were here to advise him on how to proceed.

* * *

Steve wanted to cry when Tony wrapped his arms around him. "This...this is normal?" he sniffed and actually felt better at that. He hadn't talked about this with Gleason or Brennan. He hadn't realised that this would be a problem. Maybe that was stupid of him. Had it tasted bad for Bucky too...? Probably not. He'd been going into heat at the time, hadn't he? Maybe once he went through a heat with Tony they could sort all this out. Maybe...

He winced when Tony tried to pull out. "Okay. Okay. Sorry-- it's just hard." Steve said, pun not intended. He grit his teeth and tried to focus on the feeling of Tony inside of him. He unclenched, just, and whined as Tony pulled out of him. It wasn't an entirely happy sound. He squirmed uncomfortably as Tony pulled out and felt a strange pang of emptiness. It was like they couldn't win. His body wanted Tony and yet at the same time didn't. It was so frustrating, and not in a good way. Steve wanted to press his legs back together on instinct. He wasn't even hard anymore. He just felt like he was fucking up in every way possible. Like he wasn't good enough.

He let Tony's calming words wash over him and calm him marginally. Steve swallowed and trembled. He could feel Tony's hands on his waist, encouraging him to turn over, but he didn't want to-- he couldn't face him. Steve shoved his face against the pillow. "I can't-- I don't know how to do this. I don't know _how_ to be good for you anymore. I feel so useless," he said, his words muffled against the fabric.

Steve refused to face Tony; Tony rubbed his back soothingly.  Tony couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt because he understood why Steve felt so confused.  Steve wanted to be good for his Alpha, but subconsciously, that was Bucky.

"Whatever you want, Steve," said Tony gently.  "You're doing the best you can and it's pretty damn good, okay?  And I'm happy with it. You're not failing me, okay? Seriously, I'm so glad you're here and that we're together.  It's okay to be confused and stuff. We're both figuring stuff out. It's fine, whatever, you know? We're still the world's biggest power couple, we're still Tony goddamn Stark and Captain America."  He huffed a little and lay down on the bed next to Steve.

"Maybe...maybe you could bite my shoulder, or something?" he suggested tentatively. Steve wanted Tony's teeth to leave a mark.

Steve suggested that he bite his shoulder, but... it wasn't the same.  There was something so intimate about biting Steve's neck. It was like Steve had suggested Tony jerk off his arm instead of his dick.  What was the point?

Tony bit his shoulder anyway, just because he'd asked.  He bit until he tasted blood, then pulled away. He regretted it after he'd done it; now, with the mark on Steve's shoulder, he could compare it to the one on his neck and see how different they were.  And besides, Steve's body would just heal the shoulder-mark in like twelve hours anyway, so what was the point?

The hotel phone rang and Tony jumped before reaching over to grab it.

"...breakfast is here," he reported to Steve.  "...plus a bunch of fanmail for you, apparently.  And someone sent flowers."

“Ugh.  Jackals.  How do they always find us?"

Tony shrugged.  "They always find us.  Who knows why anyone does anything?  What I wanna know is why all three of these letters is addressed to you and not me... and the flowers, too!  What am I, chopped liver?" Tony rolled his eyes while Steve pulled open the letter. Tony was secretly hoping it was from some omega who had been inspired, because Steve seemed so down and he knew that sort of sugary bullshit appealed greatly to Steve.  He was glad Steve was getting flowers and stuff because he wanted Steve to see how beloved he was, how valuable. Being force-bonded like he was, it wasn't his fault, and he wasn't broken. Just... different.

_Dear Steve,_

_I think the war's just about over and I'm coming home.  I miss you madly. I just need to find someone I lost and then we can go back to the way things were.  Did I mention I miss you like crazy? I could have sworn you were here but it might have been a dream. I had a couple of bad tours and my memory isn't so great now, but you better believe I remember you and Becky and all the important stuff.  Plus pizza. I thought Italy would be great for Italian food but the pizza was lousy, too much oil, sauce too thin. That's about all I took away from Italy. I just realized I promised you a Kraut helmet a few years ago and I didn't get you one.  Sorry, Stevie. I guess that's just another thing I forgot. They say it gets better. I think I'm getting better. I'll see you soon._

_All my love,_

_B_

_PS: I think I lost my arm.  Sorry Stevie._

"Gotta hand it to you... the whole strawberries and cream thing was inspired.  This is good. I forgot to eat yesterday," said Tony, licking whipped cream off his hands.  He was eating the waffles with his fingers, oblivious to Steve reading the letter. "Do you mind if I have some of your coffee?  I feel a lot better. Hey. Listen. Don't worry about the mating thing, okay? We've got the rest of our lives to figure that out.  ...hey, are you okay?" Steve was looking paler than usual. Steve didn't tan nearly as well as Tony did; being so fair, it was nothing sort of a miracle he didn't burn constantly, especially since they lived in Malibu.  "I told you it wasn't your fault, Steve. Really. I don't mind. We'll get through this." Tony offered him a strawberry.

Steve froze. The words churned in his head. _I just need to find someone I lost_. That was Karpov, wasn't it? Fuck. Steve's hands shook a little. Bucky was so confused, so alone. He didn't understand anything. Did he think the war was still going? Oh god. How broken was he? What had they done to him...? Steve wanted to kill HYDRA. He wanted to _burn_ them to the _ground_.

In and out. In and out. Steve focused on breathing and calming himself down. He'd send the letters to Natasha, see what she could do with them. Really, they could have been from anywhere. But they'd only been in the hotel a night. Wherever Bucky was, that was a day's post away. God, that was close, wasn't it?

"I'm okay," Steve said a little too quickly and pressed the letter face down onto the table. He looked a little distance, his blue eyes glassy. "I just..." His gaze trailed from the letter up to Tony's face. Had Bucky sent the flowers too? It seemed so strange; an ex-HYDRA assassin sending flowers. "It's hard to not feel like I'm failing you in some way."

He wanted to mention the letter but he wasn't sure Tony could handle it right now. Especially after asking Steve if he was going to leave him. "I know _you_ don't mind, but I kinda do."

"Sorry," said Tony quickly.  He was trying to say and do the right thing, but Steve had a weird expression and Tony was pretty sure it was about the mating.  His fault. He should have just kept going, should have ignored the bitter taste... it had just surprised him, that was all... he'd popped the gland plenty of times but it had never tasted bad...

He got up to get himself a drink from the mini-bar.  ...a couple of drinks. After spending all day by his parents' graves and then completely failing to fuck his omega or make him feel better, Tony was ready to throw in the towel for the day.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?  You want me to read you one of those letters? You want the rest of my strawberries?  Pepper never puts strawberries on waffles for some reason. Dunno why." Tony looked anxiously at Steve, but Steve seemed distracted, lost in thought.

Tony looked instead at the flowers.  Red roses. Ugh. Tony had had plenty of admirers (and gold diggers) in the past, but he still thought it was creepy and weird when total strangers began sending tokens like this.

"...at least it's not an orchid," he joked, pointing.  "...listen, I'm... I'm gonna go back to bed. I'm sorry everything feels so crappy, but it's gonna get better.  Just think about Malick's face when we show up to the AU conference in a couple of weeks." Tony offered Steve a little smile of encouragement.

Steve knew Tony was trying and he felt bad for being so unresponsive. Maybe he should shower, clear his head. And if Tony was asleep he could back down to the gym again. Or he could look for B- what the hell was he thinking? He couldn't abandon Tony when he was at his most vulnerable to go after another super-soldier who didn't even remember who he was.

Natasha had been very clear with him at Clint's:

_"We do this my way, okay Steve? We play it safe. You don't put yourself in the firing line again," she had said, stepping forward, eyes fiery. "Because I won't be able to deal with the guilt of putting you there. You want me to find him. You let me do it myself."_

_"Nat. I just wanna help--"_

_"So focus on getting you and Tony better," she'd told him. "You can't help Bucky if you two are still a mess yourselves."_

Steve did almost smile at the mention of Gideon's face. "Yeah. I kinda can't wait for that," he admitted quietly. "I wonder if he has a mate himself." He imagined he did. Probably arranged...urgh. It made Steve just shudder to think about. "It'll be interesting to meet him or her."

He finally moved to begin to eat, chewing on a piece of bacon slowly as he watched Tony flop into bed. Steve's heart hammered in his chest.

_Did I mention I miss you like crazy?_

Steve's heart ached in his chest.

 _I miss you too_.

He reached for his phone to text Natasha about the letter, letting her know he'd send pictures later.

_ > Sounds like he's close.  I'll handle it. Don't go out alone.  Did you get the dog tags and picture I sent you? - NR _

_ > Yes. Thank you Nat. SR _

_ > I won't. I promise. SR _

Steve only promised her so he actually wouldn't. He'd felt so bad about lying to Peggy before. He couldn't do it again.

Tony curled back up in the bed, pulling the covers over his shoulders and successfully knocking his half-eaten plate of waffles to the floor.  Steve had long-since learned that Tony had no sense of cleanliness whatsoever; he was too used to people cleaning up after him.

"Wake me up tomorrow, 'k?" said Tony, snuggling down with a bottle of scotch.  "...and thanks for breakfast. And... everything. This is probably the best March I've had since the eighties.  Seriously. You're the best, Steve. I love you. You're so good." He reached out; his fingers grazed Steve's bare leg.  Steve seemed distracted, but that was okay. As long as he was hearing it.

He stood and walked over to kiss the top of Tony's head. "Sleep well Tony," he murmured. "I'm glad I could help." Then he sat by the bedside, hands carding through Tony's hair until he drifted off into a troubled sleep of headlights moving down long, winding roads and pleading brown eyes.

* * *

_I miss you, too._

The asset's head snapped up so fast it hurt.  "Colonel?" he said, looking around hopefully. He blinked in confusion.  He was in a bathtub in the empty house. There was no water, and he had no memory of coming here.  How long had he been out? Had he been asleep, or just... waiting. "Colonel?" he repeated, getting up and stalking out.

He was alone.

He felt the energy leak out of him, like water out of a hole punched in a bag, and he slithered down onto the floor, empty.  For a split second he had felt good, felt whole. Felt... something. Anything. Now it was gone and he was here without any orders whatsoever, no idea of where to go or who to obey.

He sat there, staring, waiting.  Eventually orders would come. Or perhaps he would remember... something.  Anything. And in the meantime, he would wait.


	4. Trying on Collars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have only seen the movies and not read the comics: Pepper and Happy are totes an item. :)

Steve went and showered after he made sure Tony was asleep, struggling to think about anything but Bucky and where the hell he might be. He'd been trying to convince himself that he had to stay, for Tony.  But maybe it wasn't just Tony that needed Steve here. Without his mate, Steve wasn't sure he'd be able to resist the urge to go out there and find Bucky. He spent the morning on social media and YouTube. He watched some art channels, trying to distract himself from all the shit going on around him.

Steve dried out on the balcony with a fluffy dressing gown on. The view was stunning. This kind of luxury...it still felt surreal.

He wished he just call Dugan up right now. He'd be the perfect person to talk to... Steve wondered where he was buried, if he had family. He hadn't even asked.

He texted Aria.

_> Tell Vogue they can call, or whoever it was. The fashion people. SR _

_ > Okay Steve. I will tell the 'fashion people' they can call. AT _

_ > How are you boys doing out there? AT _

Steve hesitated.

_ > It will be easier after today. SR _

Now that much was true.

Tony had guessed, correctly, that the news had leaked that they were buying a collar and social media was buzzing with rumors.  Plenty of people had outright dismissed the idea that Steve would ever do anything so degrading. Some were hopefully guessing that it was either a publicity stunt or that it was part of Steve's whole equality crusade and he was about to do some sort of dramatic gesture against collars and the companies that sold them.  And still others were saying it was about time that Tony finally got his omega under control, that he was finally taking charge and putting Steve in his place.

Currently it was only rumors, and only a trickle.  In a day, that would no doubt change to full-blown hysteria when it was confirmed they were buying a collar.  ...two collars, in fact.

Aria texted Steve to let him know that she and Pepper were both glad things were going so well.  Reading between the lines, it was obvious March was as stressful a time for Pepper as for Tony. She spent a substantial amount of energy worrying about him; with Steve on the scene again, clearly, a burden had been lifted.

The funny thing was, though, that Tony's black depressions were often easy to deal with when they only lasted a day.  Tony was inclined to simply sleep them off. It was the long-term lack of food and reliance on alcohol that was dangerous.  But for one or two days, they weren't so bad. Certainly rough, emotionally, but not life-threatening by any stretch of the imagination.

And when Thursday dawned, Tony was up at his usual time, looking well-rested.  Which made sense, since he'd slept away the better part of two days. He greeted Steve with a kiss and a nuzzle, and headed to the bathroom to shower without any indication he'd spent the last two days acting like the world was ending.  Then again, Tony's moods had always been capricious.

 _"...put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me..."_ Tony was singing along to his music.  A sure sign he was feeling much better.  "... _you told them all I was crazy.  They cut off my legs; now I'm an amputee..."_

Steve was relieved to find Tony in a better mood the next morning and smiled at the kiss. He'd ordered them the same breakfast again and actually ate his this time. The bacon was salty and the eggs buttery. It was good but Steve didn't want to think about how much it cost. When Tony stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist he _looked_ better, lighter on his feet than he had been in a while. Steve felt an odd sense of relief wash over him.

"Our first appointment's at eleven," Steve said as he munched on a piece of fried bread. It was already past ten. He was dressed in a smart pair of jeans and a casual light blue shirt himself. His neck had healed completely from the night before. There was a fresh indent of teeth, but they were faded. There was no sign of any cuts that had caused his gland to leak, thankfully. The bite on Steve's shoulder was also, of course, completely gone.

He'd seen the news. Aria had been sending him articles she thought he might be interested in. He wasn't. Steve wasn't going to talk about it. Once they went to the Alpha conference everything would become blindingly clear. Besides, he was sick of having to defend himself to the rest of the world.

Steve's phone pinged with a text. He opened it. "Happy says he's picking us up in twenty minutes."

"Yay," said Tony.  He reached over to fuss with Steve's hair and collar, as if he had any idea what he was doing.  (He didn't.) His fingers lingered for a second on Steve's neck; he examined the bonding mark. It was like their failed mating session had never happened.  Tony's mark was gone; Bucky's mark was bold and unapologetic. Tony squinted; maybe his own teeth marks were a little deeper, but he also might be imagining it.

"...this healed good," he said with a tone of forced casualness, then added, "If you can stand sleeping with a guy who had a flashlight in his chest then I'm pretty sure I can get over one little scar."  He paused, then added glibly, " _I've_ got a scar on my neck."  It was the first time Tony had ever acknowledged it in a casual way.

He popped a strawberry into his mouth and then dusted his hands off on his suit.  He was dressed casually, probably because Pepper wasn't here to tie his tie for him.  She was caught up in meetings all week. Tony had opted for a pair of dark jeans and a button-up shirt; he'd left the top buttons open and rolled up the sleeves, the result being a sort of sleek grunge that suited him well.  The arc reactor was peeking out, but Tony didn't seem to care.

Steve shivered a little as Tony's hands ran through his hair and he looked up, licking the butter from the toast off of his fingers. "I like the light. S'good for drawing," he said. Steve had stayed up many a night drawing under the dull blue glow when he couldn't sleep. But the light itself never kept him up. Back in the forties he'd lived in a city, and his ma hadn't been able to afford proper curtains; he was used to light streaming into his bedroom and he was good at sleeping through it.

He wanted to point out that the man who'd left Tony's scar was dead and how different that was. If he was still out there Steve would probably hunt him down himself, no matter how dangerous. But knowing that Tony had taken his own revenge calmed him considerably.

Tony pointed to the desk in the room.  Steve's flowers were there, along with the three letters.  "Hey, you didn't open up your other two pieces of fanmail. ...you're not already sick of being loved and adored, are you?"

Steve turned and felt a strange tug in his chest at the letters. "Maybe later." He said quietly. "Kind of sick of...everyone else, at the moment," he murmured. He knew that if he read more of Bucky's letters it would just make it harder not to try and find him. And he didn't want to go against Natasha's word, not when she was already sacrificing so much for him.

He wasn't worried about Tony reading them. He'd never shown any real interest before.

Steve smiled over at Tony. He looked good. "Did you warn them that you wanted a collar too?"

Tony mimed being startled.  "Oh, geez, you know what? I completely forgot to mention it."  He looked tickled by the idea of shocking people. Tony loved that.  "Shall we?" He offered Steve his arm.

Tony was clearly in a much better mood.  His parents' anniversary was over and it would be a whole year before he had to go stand there at their graves again.  And today, he would get to see Steve Rogers in a collar, the idea of which was so scintillating that it was largely overshadowing other thoughts.

Tony couldn't say he felt too bad about their failed mating session.  He'd been warned it would be hard, and he was certain they could figure it out.  More important to Tony was knowing they were together and would keep trying. It's not like the Mark 1 had been the perfect suit; Tony was fine with working toward improvement.  They were sort of starting from scratch, re-discovering each other as mates. But Steve had reassured him he wasn't going anywhere and they were okay, and that was good enough.

He and Steve went to find Happy reading a tabloid in a white Audi with tinted windows.

"Happy, seriously, stop reading that garbage," demanded Tony.

"They've called every single closeted omega so far.  That rapper, Tectonic--"

"Happy, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.  They say everyone's a closeted omega. They got a couple right but that's like shooting an automatic rifle randomly into a forest, getting a deer, and saying you're a great hunter.  I'm telling you, those rags are _garbage_."

Happy didn't look convinced.  He put the tabloid into the glove box for later and drove them west, looking into the mirror curiously at them.

"...aren't you going to ask about whether or not the collar rumors are true?" asked Tony after a moment.

"Oh, Ginny already told me all about it."

"...Pepper.  Her name's Pepper."

"Her real name's Virginia, though."

"...you guys are fucking, aren't you?"

Happy prompted blew through a red light on accident.  Tony looked absolutely scandalized.

" _Happy!_  I called dibs!"

"--you can't call dibs on people, and you're bonded to Steve, so--"

"You two are a thing?  But she's like-- like a nine out of ten!  And you're a six on a good day!"

"Thanks, boss," said Happy sarcastically.  It was lost on Tony, whose dander was up. He looked over at Steve in alarm, as if to ask if he knew about this.

"Don't I have some sort of-- some sort of thing saying employees can't date each other?"

"She's not your employee.  She's a CFO and co-CEO but strictly speaking, she's not employed by you, but the shareholders and the board," said Happy.

"She told you to say that, didn't she?"  Tony was already pulling out his phone, texting furiously.

Steve was grinning from ear to ear. Oh if this was true it was brilliant. "Happy is one of the nicest people I've ever met. I don't see how he's a six, Tony," he said. "I think anyone would be lucky to have him."

Happy seemed slightly mollified. He sighed. Steve could see a pink tinge in his cheeks.

"Thank you Steve. That's very kind of you," he said, clearling his throat as he took them through a corner far more smoothly than he had the last.

"Does she prefer Ginny or Pepper?" Steve asked curiously.

"Ginny," Happy said. "That's why I use it."

Steve nodded. He sort of felt bad about it. But then she'd never corrected him once when he'd worked for her, although he'd mostly just called her 'Miss Potts.' He glanced sideways at Tony. "This really isn't a big deal, you know."

"You did mate Captain America without warning any of us, boss," Happy pointed out.

"That was different," said Tony through gritted teeth.  "His scent _called_ to me.  You two are betas, you don't have any excuse, and you _know_ how I feel about her!"

"You should have asked her out, then. You had twelve years."

"I did!  Over and over!  She always said no!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't call dibs on her like she's a chicken wing," said Happy smugly.

Tony sulked in his seat, texting Pepper furiously for details about the relationship.  "How long?"

"...aw, c'mon, Tony, she said not to tell you, she said you'd throw a tantrum--"

" _How long_?"

"Since January, okay?  Just a couple of dates... it's nothing serious."  Happy paused. "Yet."

Tony's dander spiked up all over again.  He looked-- and smelled-- incensed. He spent the rest of the car ride muttering to himself and texting Pepper, clearly upset at the idea of her having a life outside of him.  Happy let him mumble with a serene sort of grace and pulled up to the curb of a Manhattan high-rise without any apparent discomfort, even though Tony was still sulking.

Steve couldn't help but find Happy and Tony's exchange at least a little bemusing. He didn't think he'd ever seen Happy look so smug in the year he'd known him. It oddly suited him, even though the other was still evidently trying to be modest about it. Steve recognised that glint in the driver's eyes.

"I'll just sit here trying really hard not to be offended by this," he hummed, half to himself, and Happy shot him a reassuring look.

"Have fun undermining outdated and oppressive institutions!" called Happy as they got out of the car.

"Up yours, Happy!" replied Tony grumpily, stepping out into the cold New York weather and slamming the door behind him.  Happy didn't seem bothered in the slightest; he, like everyone else in Tony's life, was used to mood swings.

Once they were out on the street the noise hit him like a tidal wave, the car no longer muffling the chaos of everyday life. Steve had missed it. Brooklyn was never quite so busy, but it was _home_. Even if there was far more screens and fake tans than there used to be.

Tony huffed (his breath came out in a puff of steam) and then he looked over to Steve.  "Welp. This is the first stop, Cartier. Then we've got Bulgari right after that." They were on Fifth Avenue, which Steve had last seen when he'd woken up.  A year unfrozen hadn't made it any less confusing or noisy or flashy. The crowd was thick and there were signs everywhere. But it didn't escape Steve's gaze that there were six strategically-placed, well-dressed men in a semi-circle around them.  Of course they weren't going anywhere without the detail; Tony's entourage had followed them from the hotel and was currently scanning around them, even though, in the hustle and bustle of the sidewalk, no one had immediately recognized either Tony or Steve.

"You know, if you really care about her, you should be happy for her Tony," Steve pointed out softly. "That's what my ma always used to say. Love is about sacrifices." Steve hadn't understood it at the time, not really. But he had understood the old photograph of his father on the mantelpiece. He'd been a man who went to war who'd never truly returned. It had been a hard separation and a harder death. Sarah Rogers had never really ever talked about it.

He and Tony were beginning to attract a few looks, especially once they were inside the first shop. One old man looked about ready to have a heart attack. Steve offered him a small nod and a polite smile.

The shop was full of designer collars and not a single one's price tag wasn't in the triple digits, _at least_. Most of them were flashy and glitzy and made Steve feel physically ill. He wanted to wear collars to make a point, sure. But that didn't mean for one point he would enjoy this.

Steve sighed and looked around, his brow pinching together. "I dunno if I can do this..."

"Oh, Steve," said Tony with a small roll of his eyes, clearly amused by Steve's naivete.  "This is the _public_ showroom.  Please, we're not buying anything from here.  We're meeting a rep named Lydia to look at a private collection."  He hooked his arm into Steve's and gave him a pat. "Steve, you killed Nazis.  You can try on a couple of collars. Just to be clear, we're not even considering anything less than a cool mil.  C'mon."

He strode across the store, ignoring all the glittering jewelry around them; they were about two-thirds of the way across the room when a woman approached them.

A single glance told them that Cartier had done their homework.  She was wearing a pencil skirt, stiletto heels, and sleeveless black blouse that draped elegantly around her neck and shoulders, revealing a lot of back and a hint of cleavage.  But more notably... she was a redhead. A natural one, clearly; her cheeks and nose were covered in freckles. She extended a hand to Tony; Tony shook it, his eyes wandering over her.

"You must be Lydia."

"I am.  A pleasure.  I hope you had a pleasant trip?"

"It was dece."  Tony let Lydia lead the two of them through a back door into a bright white hallway, toward a pair of sleek silver elevators.

"Can I get either of you anything?  Coffee? Scotch, Mr. Stark?"

"Yes to both," said Tony, who seemed perfectly at ease with all this.  Of course he did. "How many pieces did Cyrille put aside for us?"

"Sixteen.  If none of them are to your liking, of course, we have plenty more.  You know--" She turned her gaze to Steve. "--we supplied the Dora Milaje with all of their jewelry?  That's the private Wakandan bodyguard. And we were also contracted for some of Kate Middleton's jewelry for the wedding in April.  Are you two following the royal wedding?"

"Naw," said Tony.  "But I did know about the Wakandan thing.  They're into panthers, right? Seems fitting."  He turned to Steve. "Cartier's symbol is a panther."  He turned back to Lydia. "Just so you know, we're not buying anything until the end of the week.  We have five other potential sellers."

"Naturally," said Lydia breezily.  "But our collars are the best. Hands-down.  By all means, compare and see for yourself."

"Also we'll need a duplicate of whatever we buy."

That made Lydia blink.  "...certainly," she said.  The elevator pinged for their floor (the second to the top) and they stepped out.  Almost immediately an omega was offering Tony a glass of scotch; Tony took it gratefully.  The omega glanced shyly at Steve. She was young, with dirty blond hair pulled into an elegant braid.  And she was wearing a heavy silver collar with what Steve suspected were several hundred thousand dollars' worth of rubies set into it.

This was so _weird_. Steve was completely out of his comfort zone. Not just with the collars but everything. There was a reason Pepper had to be the one who dragged him out shopping; Steve was terrible at it. He had good reason. He'd never had money before, him and Bucky had barely 'shopped' in their lives for anything more than food. And it didn't help that he didn't technically _want_ a collar, he wanted it for a purpose but did he actually want to buy one? Hell no. Especially not one that cost a million dollars. Jesus Christ...

Lydia was watching him closely. She was a beta. Or Steve thought she was...he couldn't really tell, actually but he assumed that if she was an omega then she would be wearing some of the merchandise like the waitress.

"Do you either of you have any idea what you're looking for?" Lydia said, "or have you come in with an open mind?"

"Not something too...flashy," Steve said, and glanced around, feeling foolish as he finished his sentence. There was nothing in here that wasn't 'flashy.' He sighed. So much for plain leather. He wondered how'd they react when he told them he wanted text about equality written on the inside of it.

"Well, come on through," Lydia walked on and gestured for them to follow. The room was set up with four cabinets set into the floor, each containing four collars. There was seats all around and a huge dressing table-like piece of furniture that looked vintage, and expensive, that had a three way mirror for a person to inspect the goods in. She turned to face them. "Does anything catch your eye initially?"

Tony examined a display case critically.  He wished Pepper were here. Pepper had impeccable taste and she was great at accessing things like art and jewelry and those types of luxury items.  Tony relied heavily on her whenever he bought those types of things. He didn't think he'd ever purchased a watch unattended.

He was able to dismiss at least half or two-thirds of them outright.  Too many stones. Steve wanted something simple and Tony agreed that too many stones would be a bad thing.  They wanted simple, elegant, and not too feminine.

"This one's nice," he said.

"Platinum with opal, sapphire, and pearl enameling," said Lydia, appearing by Tony's side.

"Hmm... Steve, what'd you think?  This one's pretty calm."

The thought of wearing something worth so much was intimidating. Sure, Steve had a few designer suits now, but that was a whole suit- this was just essentially a necklace on steroids. Steve didn't know how people kept these sorts of things and didn't just sell them for money and donate it all.

When Steve had thought of simple he had thought of a strip of leather, not anything gem stones in it, let alone opals and sapphires... God, Steve was so out of his depth.

Lydia looked at him sympathetically. Steve hated it. And he still couldn't work out what she was. Maybe she hid it like Tectontic did, with suppressants? Seemed strange, for someone who sold collars...

"I think we have very different ideas of calm," Steve breathed.

Lydia was already pulling the silvery collar out of the case and handing it to Tony with a sort of reverence.  Tony examined it. It was surprisingly heavy in his hands; he wondered if Steve would be okay with that. Most collars were heavy; he didn't want Steve to feel burdened by it.  Personally, Tony couldn't care less; he was willing to wear whatever. To him, the whole thing was a joke, like going in drag. But he knew this had a lot more weight (ha!) to an omega like Steve.

Tony offered it to Steve.  "Penny for your thoughts? ...whatever the hell a penny is..."

When Tony offered it to him Steve didn't want to touch it. Jesus. He needed to pull it together. He was going to have to wear the damn thing. Could Lydia sense his hesitation?

"I'm afraid our high end range is never very...'calm', Captain," Lydia said politely, hands clasped in front of her. "It can be strange, wearing something so... _luxurious_ , at first, if you haven't before. But you'll soon get used to it. Our collars don't just look good; they're all designed to have maximized comfort."

"Why don't you try it on?" She gestured to the mirror. "Perhaps it'll be easier if Mr. Stark puts it on for you."

"Oh," said Tony.

He blushed.  Actually _blushed_.

"...oh, no, I-- I don't want to-- to put it-- I mean-- Steve should put it on himself."  Tony held out the collar to Steve in one hand, looking more and more embarrassed. He'd imagined Steve in a collar plenty of times, but never thought of the act of putting the collar onto him.  And he couldn't do it with Lydia right there. Lydia was a perfect fucking ten; she was gorgeous, 100% Tony's type, and every time he looked at her, his mouth watered. The idea of doing something so intimate to Steve with her there watching them was just too uncomfortable, even for Tony.

Also Tony couldn't tell if she was a beta or what.  She was wearing perfume, but beneath it, Tony kept getting wisps of a scent that wasn't beta but wasn't anything else, either.  It felt rude to ask but once he'd noticed he couldn't help but wonder.

He threw back his scotch, handed it to a nearby omega without looking, and blurted, "How do you know they're comfortable?  Have you ever tried one on?" He was sort of hoping this would shed some light on Lydia's status.

Lydia laughed.  "Ask any omega here.  ...where's Kitty? KITTY!"  The omega with the ruby collar materialized again with another glass of scotch; Tony took it gratefully.  "Mr. Stark is concerned about the comfort of the collars."

"They're _very_ comfortable," breathed Kitty softly.

Tony decided that fortune favored the bold.  "I'm gonna be blunt. Are you a beta?"

"I am now," said Lydia without a hint of being bothered.  She offered Tony another collar. "This one's not too flashy.  Rose gold with diamonds. Subtle, gentle--"

"Sorry, do you mean you-- _what?_ "  Tony was lost.  Was she saying she'd had an arvicolinectomy, like Ty?  She didn't smell weird like Ty. She mostly smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and Tony would have gladly taken her to bed if he wasn't with Steve.  Cartier had picked a damned good rep and even though it was manipulative of them, Tony couldn't help but admire that sort of business-oriented attitude.

"Go ahead, try it on.  We won't lock it," she encouraged Steve, then laughed.  "If you lock it, you buy it."

Tony snorted a little at the joke.  Two glasses of scotch in, he was feeling slightly more at ease.  But he still wasn't going to put the collar onto Steve, at least, not while anyone was watching.  It was far too intimate.

"If you want help putting it on, I can. Sometimes they can be fiddly," Kitty offered sweetly from a distance. She was a nice girl, or at least seemed it. Her tone was genuine. But every time Steve looked at her he just wanted to take that collar off of her, which was stupid. She wasn't being oppressed; she wasn't even mated. She just worked in a store that sold collars so of course she had to wear one. It was her _job._ Steve sighed internally. This was about making a point...the greater good, and all that. Sometimes he needed to calm himself down. This was one of those moments.

Steve was here because he chose to be. He was trying on collars because he was choosing. Sure, they might represent oppression but right _now_ he wasn't being oppressed. He exhaled slowly. He could do this.

"There's...locks on them?" Steve asked, a little confused as he took it from her. The metal felt cold under his fingertips but the back was padded with some kind of leathery material, presumably for comfort. He felt kind of ill just holding it. The fact that one time he'd wanted Bucky to buy him one of these was _laughable_.

Kitty came up beside him and showed him how it fastened, but didn't put it on for him. She was small and probably would have struggled to reach properly anyway. Steve exhaled slowly again to reach up and put it on. He wanted to punch a wall. Maybe when they got back to the hotel he could do some boxing, or something?

"I love it," Kitty smiling politely beside him, her eyes glinting.

 _I don't_ , Steve thought back before finally steeling himself and looking up into the mirror.

Lydia smiled politely.  "...all collars lock," she said.  It was clear she thought Steve was a bit dim for not knowing this, but she was maintaining a certain degree of professionalism.

Tony came up behind Steve.  Steve had fastened the collar and was examining it in the mirror.  His expression was unreadable, but Tony could feel his discomfort. He put his hands on Steve's biceps.  "Hey," he said quietly. "Steve, if you want to back out, we can, okay? We don't have to go to the conference.  If this is too much, that's okay."

The collar looked nice on him.  Tony glanced into the mirror, examining it.  Yeah, it looked really nice. But it would have looked nice on a warthog; it was, after all, a one-of-a-kind, two-million-dollar choker.

He nosed behind Steve's ear.

Tony's touch was grounding. "I'm not backing out. That's exactly what Malick will expect me to do. He thinks I'm too proud for something like this." Steve distantly recalled him saying he'd rather walk around naked. He was starting to think that was actually _true_. "I want to do this," he murmured. "It's just-- this is hard."

"I don't think rose gold goes with Steve's complexion," he said, reaching up to unfasten the collar

"I agree," said Lydia immediately.  "The platinum would look better on him."  She took the rose gold collar from Tony and swapped it for the first one he'd looked at.  Tony held it, looking down, feeling conflicted. This wasn't nearly as sexy as he'd initially imagined.  Steve's clear discomfort was ruining the erotic element of it for Tony. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if Lydia and Kitty weren't there.  Tony still couldn't quite get over Lydia's weird non-status.

He put his arms around Steve's waist from behind and nuzzled his back, the collar still in his hands.  "You want a break?" he asked softly.

Lydia was putting away the rose gold one, giving them their privacy; Kitty was watching them out of the corner of her eye, clearly fascinated by Steve's presence.

When Tony took the collar off Steve hadn't even realised he'd been holding his breath until it was gone, the loss of the heavy weight making him feel...strange, almost.

"No. No break. Let's just get this over and done with. It'll be easier after a while," Steve said. He didn't like how formal it was. Lydia and Kitty were so serious and professional, and yes they were good at their jobs...or Steve was sure they were, but they weren't exactly making him feel more at ease either. It was so normal to them. Steve couldn't comprehend it.

"Why do they lock?" Steve asked as he took the collar out of Tony's hands, even though he was sure he knew the answer. He just wanted to hear them say it. This collar was heavier than the last as he put it on but they were right. The silver did look better than gold; he was too pale for the latter.

"It's traditional," said Lydia simply.

Tony looked down.  Fuck. Steve was going to make him say it.  "They lock so that they can't be taken off," he said.  He'd never felt as shitty about his status as he did right now.

"They can be taken off," jumped in Kitty.  "It's not like we don't provide a key."

"...that the Alpha keeps," said Tony, feeling even worse.

"Anyone can keep the key," disagreed Kitty, looking a bit offended.  Of course she did. Clearly, she liked her collar.

Tony decided to try to slide the conversation in another direction.  "Are there any _you_ like, Steve?  Anything you're looking for?"  He couldn't help but think Steve probably had some sort of preference.  Steve had grown up a century ago; Steve probably, at least at some point, had either wanted a collar or had at least formed a preference.  He and Bucky might have even talked about it. The thought made Tony's stomach turn.

Steve paused. Of course the Alpha kept it-- or maybe self-righteous Kitty wasn't the only exception to that rule. He hoped she wasn't.

Kitty reached up and took off the the platinum collar when Steve appeared to be struggling with it and went to gently place it back in the case. Lydia obviously wasn't prepared to get as hands on and Steve was oddly glad; the woman seemed like she held something back that Steve couldn't put his finger on. And it wasn't just her status. Behind her eyes there were questions; she was probably curious about why captain America would want a collar, of all people. But she wouldn't ask- that would be bad business.

"I was kind of hoping for something that wasn't metal," Steve said. He didn't like metal on his neck, surprisingly enough. It kind of brought back bad memories...memories of a metal arm pressed against his neck in a small cage whilst Steve screamed at Bucky not to hurt him. "It's...cold," he provided as an explanation. 

Kitty hummed. "That makes sense. A lot of our clients find metal more uncomfortable, even with an inner padding."

"We have plenty of lining options.  Fur is a bit more delicate, and a bit harder to maintain, but we do offer it," suggested Lydia.  "Most of the linings for these are synthetics, designed to breathe... but of course, the drawback is that they can get chilly.  Kitty, you have suede, correct?"

"Yes," said Kitty, examining the case.  "...none of these are suede. But we can customize the collars however you like.  The lining is the easiest part to alter, actually. I've had mine changed three times already.  They all have lifetime service warranties."

Tony was watching both Steve and Lydia over the top of his glass with a critical eye.  Steve had a look on his face and Tony wondered if he meant he wanted the whole collar in something other than metal.  Tony had no idea what the heck you'd make a collar from, if not some sort of metal. Besides, they were at a jeweler's... Cartier and Bulgari and the rest of them wouldn't make anything that wasn't a precious metal.

Lydia turned to get another collar, and Tony sidestepped to get a look at the back of her neck, curiosity overwhelming him.

There was a scar there, but it wasn't a bonding mark.  It was a subtle, thin surgical scar. Suspicion confirmed: she was an omega who'd been altered.

Lydia turned back, bumping into Tony, who had gotten close to eyeball her neck.

"Oh!  Excuse me, Mr. Stark--"

Her eyes were shockingly green.  Contacts?

"--no problem," said Tony, who now knew, thanks to their colliding, that Lydia wasn't wearing a bra under her slinky black dress.  At some point, Kitty had gotten him another scotch.

You didn't have to be a math genius to figure out that, with six appointments, if Tony got the VIP treatment at each one, he would have imbibed eighteen glasses of scotch by the end of the day.  Tony wished he and Steve had talked more about what they wanted before going on this excursion; he didn't think even he could handle this much alcohol and braless redheads being thrown his way. No doubt all of the other jewelers, each vying for business, were going to try to get on his good side with similar techniques.

"...let's say maybe to the platinum one and go shop around some more," suggested Tony, handing Kitty the half-drunk glass.  "...and maybe we should talk about... about what we're really looking for, y'know?"

"We _do_ have more to select from, if none of these appeal to either of you," jumped in Lydia, who seemed a bit miffed that none of the collars had jumped out to Tony or Steve.  "And if there's elements you like on different pieces, we can always craft something from scratch. These are all one-of-a-kind, signature pieces, but we could easily make anything you could imagine."

"We'll think about it. Thank you, you've been very accommodating," Steve said with a signature 'cap' smile. Honestly, all the collars looked the same to him; over the top and unnecessary. They were heavy and no amount of suede or fur would make them comfortable. Lydia didn't look happy at them leaving but Kitty just looked excited to having gotten to see him.

"I think you're very cool, you know," she told him as Lydia reluctantly opened the door for them to head back out to the elevator. "I like that you just do what you want. Damn the consequences. You do you." And Steve felt weirdly better about her wearing a collar then. Kitty was obviously wearing it because she _liked_ it. No one was making her be here.

"You do you too, Kitty," he told her with a small nod of his head and then they were stepping into the elevator and Steve was relieved to be getting out of there. The elevator doors slid shut and it was like Steve could breathe again. He slumped against a wall, feeling small and his chest still feeling tight.

"Geez," he whispered running a hand over his face. " _Why_ was that so stressful?"

Tony put a hand on Steve's shoulder.  He was feeling uncomfortable, but he was pretty sure a lot of that was his mate's feelings.  "Steve, seriously. You don't have to prove anything to Malick. I won't think less of you if you want to back out of this.  Collars have a really long, shitty history and I'm kinda surprised you were as cool as you were in there."

He paused, then added, "Besides, I don't know if I can handle five more presentations.  Did you see how they got a redhead, and my favorite whiskey? These fucks know exactly what pulls my strings.  I'm used to people sucking up to me, but holy shit. These guys are taking it to another lev--"

The elevator pinged when it reached the main floor and the moment they stepped out, they were swamped by about a dozen reporters.  Fortunately, Tony's bodyguards were playing defense; nonetheless, Tony was surprised at how quickly the paparazzi had tracked them down.

"Captain Rogers!  Captain Rogers, is it true you're letting your mate collar you?"

"What about your omega civil rights campaign?"

"Mr. Stark, how much money are you going to spend?"

"Don't you think your fans are going to be disappointed?"

"Is this part of a publicity stunt or are you actually going to--"

Tony slipped a hand around Steve's waist and shouldered through the crowd, which was being controlled not only by his bodyguards, but by several store associates who were demanding that the 'razzi leave.

"...ho-ly shit," muttered Tony.  "Maybe we _should_ back out... this is only our first stop and they're already all over us--"

Happy was waiting at the curb; Tony opened the door for Steve, pushed him in, and slid after him, slamming the door in the face of a TMZ reporter.

"Someone tweeted about seeing you and now they know," said Happy, unnecessarily.

"Yeah, I figured that out," said Tony, dragging a hand across his face.  He looked over at Steve. "...Steve, what is it _you_ want?  Seriously, you hated all those collars, I could tell.  Just tell me what you wanna do and we'll do it. But I don't want you to force yourself to do something you can't stand just to make a point.  Sometimes you've got to drop the whole Cap act and take care of regular old Steve."

Steve's vision was fuzzing at the edges. He let Tony lead him and push him into the car. The flashes from the media's cameras still lit up the car windows. He shook his head, screwing his eyes shut and opening them again. He curled his legs against his chest, slumped back against the seat. He wheezed a little. _What did he want? He didn't know what he fucking wanted!_

He leaned his head against his knees and thought about metal pressing down on his neck. He remembered the wet surface of the cave in the simulation, not being able to breathe-

Steve looked up. Was Tony saying something? Had he been? He wasn't listening. He realised he wasn't breathing properly, his eyes red rimmed around the edges.

Happy watched with a concerned frown from the front seat.

Why was this bothering him so much? _Why?_

"I don't-- I don't want to d-disappoint anyone. God. What am I _doing_?  I've never even worn one before. Why do I give a shit?"

He tried to figure out if it was all worth it. Malick would probably love it if he could see him now. Captain America brought to tears and verging on a panic attack from trying on a few collars. He would probably laugh. He would probably find it _funny_.

"I-- I want to go," Steve said, calmer than he had been a minute ago as he ran a hand over his face. "I'm not giving up. But I don't want to do it like _this_. I want to buy the simplest, shittiest collar in existence and I want it to flammable so I can burn the fucking thing the minute I don't have to wear it."

Tony watched Steve melting down.  He turned to the front. "Happy, drive.  Take us back to the hotel. We're done."

He turned back to Steve, rubbing his back.  Steve was tense under his touch, shaking. "...Steve, fuck.  You're having a panic attack over this. We can just cancel, okay?  It won't disappoint anyone, I promise. This isn't healthy to force yourself to do this just to prove a point.  Just breathe, Steve. We're not putting anything around your neck if you don't want it."

He had to admit a very small part of him was disappointed.  But he wasn't surprised. Steve's aversion to collars, to having something touching his neck, especially after being force-bonded... Tony didn't like shit on his wrists.  He understood perfectly why Steve was reacting like this.

He pulled out his phone to text Pepper and tell her to cancel all of the other appointments, knowing she'd be annoyed because setting up six private appointments with high-end jewelers in the same day was probably no small feat.

"Come on... let's just relax the rest of the day... forget the collar thing, Steve, it was stupid anyway..." said Tony.  Steve looked a lot calmer but Tony didn't care; as far as he was concerned, they were through looking at collars. It wasn't worth seeing his mate freaking out like this.

Luckily, when they got back to the hotel, there were no reporters at all; they were probably all out stalking of Fifth Ave.'s most prestigious jewelry stores.


	5. Barnes Family Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ready for an emotional roller-coaster? Steve sure isn't. The next 4 or so chapters are going to be a trip and we, the authors, make no apologies for that. Cliff-hangers will abound. Enjoy. - T
> 
> (PS: Reminder: if you like Omega Rising, consider helping us name the first four parts. You can win prizes! Copy and paste this link to check out the form: https://goo.gl/forms/owng8a7o44TBOFlv2)

The moment Tony and Steve walked into the lobby, the concierge approached them.  "Captain Rogers, there's been a series of phone calls for you... it seems very urgent... the line is on hold for you in your room."

"Jesus Christ, give us a break!" snapped Tony, all too aware that Steve was still feeling the affect-effects of his panic attack.  Attempts to calm Steve down by reassuring him that they could cancel and didn't have to attend the conference had been ineffective; in fact, they'd pretty much worked Steve up even more.

"I-I don't want to cancel. I don't want to let him win. Can't you see Tony? He thinks he can break me. He thinks I can't handle this. I'm going to fucking _handle_ this." And with that he clammed up, clenching his jaw and focusing on breathing. _In for two and out for two._...he remained silent, his expression steely and determined, until they got back to the hotel. Even then he was only half with it, letting Tony's arm on his waist guide him on through.

The concierge could clearly sense something was wrong and backed away immediately with a bunch of apologies, saying he'd try to take a message, though the caller was very insistent.  Sure enough, the phone was ringing when they got into the room. Tony was unclear who the hell would call them in the hotel; if it was this urgent, it was probably Aria or the president, but they had Steve's personal cell number.  Did Steve forget to charge his phone again? If it was dead, why wouldn't they just call Tony's cell? They knew the two were together...

"You want me to get that?" asked Tony, pointing to the phone.  The last thing poor Steve needed was to be bothered by God-knows-who; if it was a reporter, Tony was going to go mental.

* * *

...his mate was panicking.

He felt it like a punch to the gut and couldn't shake it, and knew he had to act.  His primary goal was finding Karpov, since Steve was found. But he could barely focus on his notebook and gave up after a while.  The urge to go protect Steve was overwhelming, crowding all other thoughts from his mind.

He gathered up his meager belongings, shoved them into the knapsack he'd stolen, and left the empty house to find a payphone.  He couldn't, so he ended up robbing a phone from a jogger because it was easier. He knocked her out and left the body on the side of a path in the park, putting a good couple of miles between them before taking out the phone.

"Swipe to unlock," it said.  He pressed his finger onto the screen and swiped; nothing happened.  He tried a few more times, then realized his left hand was probably too cold.  When he swiped with his right hand, it worked fine.

He looked up the number for the Allegria hotel and called, asking for Steve's room number instead of Steve directly, since this gave him more credibility.  They asked who was calling. He told them it was classified. They seemed to be wary (fair enough) and offered to take a message. He said he'd try again.

And he did.

By the twentieth call the hotel staff was clearly fed up with him, but he could still feel Steve's discomfort and fear in his gut, and he wasn't going to give up until he knew his omega was okay.  Steve had to come back to the hotel eventually; the soldier needed to hear his voice, needed to know he wasn't in danger. If Steve needed him, he could be there within thirty minutes and take care of whatever his omega needed. That's what a good Alpha did, after all.

* * *

Tony had thought the matter with the concierge had been fully dealt with, but then they got to their suite, where the phone was ringing. Steve didn't want to answer it. But he pulled his mobile out to find his phone was, in fact, dead and, sighed.

"I should-- I should answer it; it might be Nat," Steve said, his voice thick. If she had news on Bucky then he needed to hear it, even if it was bad.

"C'mon... sit down, we'll talk this over when you're less freaked out..." said Tony.  He led Steve over to the couch and sat him down.

He slumped, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Tony's chest for a moment. He breathed out steadily.

He was still shaking. His forehead was clammy and his shirt was sticking to him a little. Steve didn't look good, his skin having taken on a pale, waxy tinge. He clutched Tony's hand in both of his, focusing on the bumps of his knuckles He screwed his eyes shut. The phone was still ringing. It was making his head hurt. "Could-- could you pass it to me?" he asked, not sure his legs would support him if he tried to walk over and fetch it right now. "I just... I gotta, in case it's Nat."

Tony grabbed the phone and went to the bar and grabbed Steve a bottle of water, too, offering it to him.

Steve took the water and opened it, drinking it greedily. "I like proving points. You know that. It's my thing," he pointed out and then he put the phone to his ear. "Besides, now everyone knows we went collar shopping. Gotta have a reason for--"

On the other line there was quiet breathing.

Steve frowned when he heard the breathing. There was something oddly sinister about it.  "Nat, are you okay?"

"Hey, if it's Nat, you should ask to talk to Clint.  One omega to another," suggested Tony from the kitchette. "...I'm pretty sure he would agree with me, though.  Putting yourself through this, it's not proving anything, man. Like, you don't need to hit your hand with a hammer to show off how high your pain tolerance is, you know?  Fuck Malick, don't do this just to prove a point." Tony rummaged around the fridge. He was starving.

"Nat?  Hel--" began Steve.

But then a voice cut him off and it was like everything just... _stopped_. Time came to a grinding halt and the Earth was suddenly no longer spinning on its axis. 

On the other line, a hoarse voice asked softly, "...Steve?  Is this Steve? ...are you okay?"

Steve froze, his gaze fixed on the wall ahead of him. He dropped the water bottle and it fell to the floor with a sloshing sound, water spilling out onto the expensive carpet.

"B-Bucky?" His voice was shaking. "I-Is that you?"

Tony froze completely at the sound of the name.

Twelve miles away, Bucky froze as well.  That was his name. Hearing Steve say it was so... grounding.  He felt like he had just woken up from a long sleep. He was groggy but awake, alive...

"Yeah.  Yeah, it's me, Steve.  What's wrong? I felt you panicking," he said, clearing his throat a little.  "Do you need me? I can be there in a few minutes if you need--"

Tony darted across the room and lunged at the phone.  "Who the _fuck_ is this, what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, messing with _my_ fucking omega?!"

 _My_ omega?   _My_ omega?!  Steve was _his_ omega.

Bucky growled.

Tony growled.

Both of them had their teeth bared and their dander up, and both were far beyond words, which was unfortunate, because neither was clear who he was actually speaking to, other than having a vague idea it was some other Alpha who was encroaching on Steve-territory.  The phone conversation had taken a slightly comical turn as the two of them both clutched the phones in their hands, growling aggressively into the line without managing to convey any information whatsoever, other than raw anger and aggression. However, without any pheromonal cues, it was unclear who was dominant over whom, so they were simply growling louder and louder to be heard over the other one.  Evolution hadn't ever predicted the invention of the telephone; in a face-to-face to situation, Tony and Bucky would have been fighting by now, but without any physical presence, the two of them were caught in a never-ending loop of verbal posturing.

"Tony, give me the phone."  Steve was up on his feet and looking calmer than he had in hours. "Tony. Tony give me the phone." But the Alpha wasn't even listening to him. He was just growling. Jesus. They were fucking idiots.

He stepped forward, not hurting him, but pressed Tony up against the wall with his forearm. "I do _not_ need you to speak for me," he told him simply and then plucked the phone out of his hand. Bucky was growling.

 _Fucking idiots_.

Steve tried to keep his voice calm. What he had to say was important. "Bucky. Stop growling. I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me. Now, can you tell me where you are?"

Tony squirmed uncomfortably under his mate's grip, trying to snatch the phone back.  Steve was too strong. Tony felt awful; what the hell kind of Alpha was he, getting pushed around like this by an omega?

Bucky's growl broke off when he heard Steve's voice.  "Steve! You're okay? Who was that? Do you need me?"  Bucky's voice had a frantic note to it.

Back in the forties, keeping Steve from getting beaten, or worse, force-bonded and raped, was no small feat.  Steve picked fights all the time and Bucky was constantly arriving at the last minute to bail him out, summoned by their bond, by Steve's desperation.  Currently, Bucky's head was reeling, and he was lost in the haze of his own half-formed memories. Wasn't Steve big now? Couldn't he protect himself? But there was another Alpha there, and Steve had clearly been in distress--

Another possibility had occurred to Bucky, a terrible one.  Perhaps that other Alpha was Steve's war Alpha. "War Alphas" weren't uncommon during the Great War, or during the Second War, either.  Omegas like Steve needed protection and with their Alphas away, they sought out new companionship. If the Alpha didn't return, they'd rebond; if the Alpha did return, they'd simply go back to them.  Or, sometimes, the Alphas would duke it out and to the victor go the spoils. Bucky had known it was a possibility that Steve might seek out a temporary Alpha for protection; God knew the scrawny little guy needed it.  But wasn't the war over? Bucky was stateside now, he was _home_...

Bucky realized Steve had asked him a question.  Where he was.

"I'm-- I'm real close, Steve, I promise, I'm--"  Bucky looked around. He had been walking aimlessly.  He was at a street corner. "--I'm back home, in Brooklyn, corner of Crown and Franklin.  But it's okay, you don't come to me, _I'll_ come to _you_ \--"

Fortunately Bucky knew where Steve was, at some swanky hotel in Long Island, which was relatively close.  Thank God for that. Bucky was feeling increasingly worried about Steve, who had felt so panicked earlier and was with some other Alpha.  Bucky was having trouble getting his dander down because he could hear the other Alpha in the background, spitting out all sorts of threats and obscenities.

Tony was having a minor fit under Steve's arm.  "I'll kill him! I'll fucking kill him! You're mine!  I'll rip him to shreds!" Tony was shrieking in between growls and grunts of effort.  Steve was obviously trying not to hurt him, which was making pinning him difficult, because Tony was doing everything short of biting to get out from under Steve's arm.  Nonetheless, Tony was still pinned against the wall, like a butterfly to a board, and he was alternatively trying to get out and to grab the phone back. Being pinned beneath Steve's arm was like being under one of those metal bars on a roller coaster seat; it was solid and heavy and unmovable, but Tony's instincts had hijacked his reasoning skills and he was going berserk, even though, logically, he should have known he couldn't easily escape the weight of Steve's grip.  Not without a suit.

Steve let go of Tony long enough to grab his phone from his pocket. He knew his Alpha might well try and take either phone back but they both knew who was the stronger one here.

"I'm okay," Steve repeated. "I'm fine."

 _I don't need you_.

 _I never needed anyone_.

He texted the street corner with Tony's phone to Natasha and reiterated the _'no SHIELD'_ yet again because he couldn't stress that enough. "Bucky, I'm sending someone to come pick you up, and you're gonna be polite, okay? You won't hurt anyone."

"Who are you sending?" asked Bucky suspiciously.  He was no longer entirely sure who to trust. "...Colonel Karpov?" he said hopefully.  That, other than Steve, was the only person he was certain was on his side.  In the background he could still distantly hear another Alpha shrieking.

Tony was kind of scary like this. Sure, he'd talked about killing during their heat but that had been a heat. This was real. And Steve was shaking. He needed to get Bucky out of the general public and away, somewhere where he couldn't hurt anyone, or be hurt. Steve needed to know he was okay.

Steve turned to face Tony and pointed his phone at him. "You need to calm the hell down Tony. He's sick and he's confused and he needs treatment."  He could tell Tony was about to protest; he cut him off. "He did whatever they told him to. _I_ wasn't the only one who was force bonded in there."

Tony's phone chimed.

_ > Are you kidding me??  Where am I supposed to take him, Clint's? - NR _

"Oh, really?" snarled Tony, ignoring his phone, focused on Steve.  " _He's_ the one who's got a scar on his neck? _He's_ the one whose smell is permanently changed?  Did they even tell him to bond you, Steve? Did they?  How do you know he's not faking to get you back? Huh?"  Tony didn't really care if Bucky was "sick" or not. A rabid dog was sick, but it got put down, right?  As far as Tony was concerned, even if Bucky hadn't been responsible for what happened to Steve, he was still dangerous and beyond saving.  Also, he suspected Steve was standing up for Bucky because they were bonded. Naturally, Steve would side with Bucky. Naturally, he would want to help him, to nurse him through a "sickness," because he was a good omega and that's what good omegas did.

"Is he taking me to you?" asked Bucky.  He was feeling optimistic. He was about to be reunited with Steve and Colonel Karpov and they could go home and live in Brooklyn, one big happy family, and with the two of them at Bucky's side, he was sure he would get over this weird fog that was in his head.  He might not even need his notebooks anymore. (He was on his third. It was black, like the other two.)

"If he does whatever HYDRA wants, then he's _dangerous_ , Steve.  Call SHIELD, call the National Guard, call... I don't know, call _someone_ , call someone and get rid of him.  I don't care if he's confused. He hurt you! Fuck him! ...and let me go!"

"I..."

Steve froze as Tony spoke, Bucky's voice numbing his brain. Because no, they hadn't asked Bucky to _bond_ , to  _mate_ him, had they? Just to take him, forcibly.  He had not needed to bite Steve's neck for that.  But maybe they'd given him more instructions once Steve was in heat. It had never occurred to him that Bucky did it of his own volition. That he would do that to him. When Tony asked to be let go it was like Steve was burned. He stepped back immediately, eyes wide and confused. He looked lost, like a little kid from Brooklyn again who just couldn't quite find his way. Tony's phone started vibrating in his hand. It was Natasha.

He stared at the phone, feeling frozen.  Tony had said to call SHIELD.  But how could Steve trust them, after what had happened with Sitwell?  He couldn't just pass Bucky along and hope for the best.  It was _Bucky_.  Not some stray cat he'd just found.

"But-- but HYDRA's in SHIELD. What-- what do I do?"

Steve had always had a good moral compass, or at least felt like he had. But right now he had absolutely no idea what the right thing to do was. Tony was on his side, Steve reminded himself. But he just didn't want it to be true, that Bucky could...do that.

He had a sick feeling in his gut, a terrible intuition that if Bucky was put in the system...that he would never get out.

Steve answered Natasha and put her on loud speaker.

"Steve." Her voice was stern. "I know you're probably panicking right now but you need to _calm down_. Is Tony there too?"

"Yes, I'm here!" shouted Tony.

"Steve?  ...Steve?"  Bucky wasn't sure what was going on but he could hear the other Alpha and he was feeling less and less confident by the second.  His top priority was Steve's safety and he could not, at present, guarantee that. Not with that other Alpha there. "Steve, I need you to go somewhere safe until I get there.  You need to get away from--"

"Does the Winter Soldier know where you are?" asked Natasha.

"Who's _that_?" asked Bucky, who could hear a female voice in the background.

"If he knows where you are, you need to leave.  Now. He's dangerous."

Did she just say the other Alpha was dangerous?  " _Steve_?" Bucky scanned the street. He was going to have to steal a car; it would be faster to get to Steve that way and the clock was ticking, Steve was in danger...

"Natasha!  Come off him!" demanded Tony.  "Is Clint there? Have Clint talk some goddamn sense into Steve, tell him that Bucky is dangerous, tell him--"

"Shut up, Tony.  Steve. You need to--"

"--get somewhere safe, away from him," said Bucky.

"Give me that phone," demanded Tony.

"I'm on my way," said Bucky, who spotted a Honda Accord coming to a stop at a nearby intersection.  "Stay right there, okay? But get somewhere safe. Don't worry. I'll be there in two shakes."

"Fuck.  I'm on my way... Steve, where the hell do you want me to take him, you _know_ SHIELD is compromised... Sitwell got off; we can't trust any of them..." said Natasha.

" _Give me that phone_!"

"Tony's not going to hurt me Bucky," Steve said plainly. He looked tired as he sat down, his heart in his throat. His jaw trembled. "I'm _safe_. I promise I'm safe. But please don't come here. If you come here, you'll get in trouble...and I don't want you to get in trouble. Buck, okay?" He tried to speak to him in a soothing voice, one he sincerely hoped the other would listen to.

Steve then pulled the phone away and put his hand over it so Bucky wouldn't hear. "Don't you have a safe house, or something?" he hissed at Natasha.

"Not one with the kind of security we'd need to contain him," Natasha said simply.

"So what's left? If he can't go to SHIELD then where can he go? We can't just leave him out there! HYDRA will get him eventually."

"Steve." He heard Natasha give a long, defeated sigh. "You need to get out of the hotel. I'm more worried about Tony than you. Bucky will probably try and kill him." A chill ran down Steve's spine.

Shit. She was right.

"But what do I tell Bucky?" he asked, knuckles white where he held the hotel phone in his hand.

This would have been a perfect opportunity for Tony to use the Mark VII, if he could get the damn thing to work.  Yet again, Tony was left suitless. If only he had that magical, self-assembling, non-gantry armor... if only he could get it on, he could dispose of Bucky once and for all...

Tony's phone suddenly began buzzing; Pepper was calling.

"Tell Bucky to go to hell.  And _give me back my phone_!"  Tony swiped for it yet again.  "Phone!" he barked. "Put Pepper on!"

The phone, a StarkTech III, responded to his voice; he put Natasha on hold and a moment later Pepper's voice was echoing through the room.

"Anthony Edward Stark, you'd better have a really good reason to cancel on five of your six appointments today.  Do you have any idea how difficult it was to arrange for all of the private showcasings in _one day_ with less than a weeks' notice?  Plus, the media is having a field day about you two going collar shopping... is this revenge?  Is that it? Are you purposely trying to slight me because of this morning?"

"...what about this morning?" asked Tony, lost.

"About what Happy told-- never mind."

"Oh.  _Oh_!  That!  Yes! We need to talk about that!" exclaimed Tony, remembering.  "What the _hell_ , Pepper?  _Happy_?  You're dating _Happy_?"

"We're not dating, we're just--"

"--screwing?  You guys are screwing behind my back?"

"Oh my God.  This is why I didn't tell you, because I _knew_ you would react this way--"

"React _what_ way?  React _perfectly calmly_ to--"

The hotel line had gone dead while Tony and Pepper were arguing.

Across town, Bucky was driving east, fiddling with irritation with the radio.  Traffic was lousy.  Really lousy.  At this rate, it would take him an hour to get to the Allegria.  He had a distinct sense of panic that was half-his and half-Steve's. Perhaps "panic" wasn't the right word.  Bucky didn't truly feel fear or panic. He felt a sense of excitement, the kind when he was imminently about to complete an objective.  He had to get to Steve, who, he could sense, was in distress, was worried and panicking and needed him, and Bucky had shoved aside his other objective (finding Karpov) to get to Steve, whose safety was crucial.  He felt a dull sense of anxiety that he might not complete his mission, that something terrible might happen to Steve, but he was incapable of feeling any sort of disabling dread; his emotions were numbed and did not get in the way of action.

Steve had reassured him he wouldn't be injured, but Bucky couldn't trust him.  Maybe he was only saying that because he was being coerced. Who knew what that other Alpha could do to him in an hour?  And why would Steve feel so worried, if he wasn't in danger? Maybe Steve was just downplaying it. He did that often. Part of his omegahood was a constant desire to please, and Bucky could remember, with surprising clarity, Steve reassuring Bucky that he was fine, even when he was feverish and bedridden and wracked with coughing.  Maybe because of the number of times that had happened; for Steve, being ill was the norm. Steve was sick more often than he was well, but he always insisted he was okay and that Bucky shouldn't worry, and Bucky had learned not to trust Steve when Steve said he was okay.

Back in Long Island, Steve's jaw had dropped.

Steve couldn't believe that Tony chose now to talk about something so trivial. While Tony began arguing with Pepper, Steve turned and left. He didn't even think Tony noticed, hearing a final " _react_ what _way?"_ before the door closed behind him. He had no phone (his was dead, anyway). Nothing on him. He just knew he had to get out, or get to Bucky, or-- what was he thinking?

That was the thing. Steve didn't think. He just walked.  He took the steps down and then headed out to the entrance of the hotel. A woman at the desk called to him but he ignored her. Maybe it wouldn't bother Steve so much if Tony'd actually moved on from Pepper, but Steve knew he hadn't - or wouldn't. And that reaction in the hotel room proved it.

Steve didn't know what he wanted anymore. He didn't know what to think. What to _feel_. He wasn't sure about anything-- what was he even doing with his life?  He'd spent the morning trying on collars, which had made him feel dirty and disgusting, and now he was wandering alone, trapped between two Alphas.  Some role model he was, so easily knocked down by his mate.  Some "independent omega" he was modeling.  He didn't even have a job anymore.  He was no longer in the army.  He was no longer a SHIELD agent.  And Project 84?  Ha.  Like Project 84 could even work...he was an idiot.

After stepping outside the hotel, he picked a direction and walked in it, his feet taking him towards Brooklyn automatically before he even realised where he was going.

He wondered, distantly, how long it would be before Tony noticed he'd left.  But it was nothing more than a passing thought.

"How _could_ you, Pepper?  How could you?"

"How could I _have a personal life_?  Oh my God, Tony, the world doesn't revolve around you!  You want to know what the difference is between you and Happy?  Happy _calls me by my actual name_.  He _listens_ .  He cares about someone _other than himself_."

"How is it selfish of me to want you?" challenged Tony.

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?!"

"Steve, back me up--" began Tony, turning.

He was alone.

"Shit!  Pepper, I gotta go, I just lost Steve."

"Tony, wait, about Bulgari--"

Tony hung up on her and darted out of the hotel room.  Fuck, how the hell had he managed to get distracted? Steve could cover a ton of ground if he wanted to; he had no idea where Steve was.  He tore down to the lobby, but Steve was gone. He managed to yell at the concierge (" _OMEGA?!"_ ) and get a useful point in the right direction, but that was it.  Steve could be anywhere.

Tony had barely gone a half-block before two SUVs pulled up.

One of them rolled down the window.  Beth was glaring at him. "Where the hell do you two think you're going?"

"I gotta find Steve!"

"On foot?  Get in the car, Tony."

Tony practically flung himself into the car.  "We gotta find Steve, we gotta find him, we gotta--" Tony was babbling.

"Calm down, Tony.  Tom and Daston are both out looking.  You two aren't supposed to go anywhere without a detail, remember?"

"Go north!  No, east! We gotta find him before Bucky does!  Please!"

"...did you just say please?" asked Beth in surprise.  She put the car into gear. "...okay, fine, we'll drive around, but I really think you'd be better off trying to track him.  Can't you hack his ankle bracelet or something?"

Tony's eyes lit up.  "Yes! Yes, I'll do that!  Take me back to the hotel! No, wait!  Keep driving! Send someone to go get my laptop!  They can meet us en route! ...that way!" He pointed to a random direction.

Beth turned back toward the hotel.  Clearly, Tony wasn't thinking straight.  "Care to explain what's going on, exactly?"

"Steve left, Steve's old Alpha, Bucky, he's here, he's close, he's coming for Steve, he said so, I gotta find Steve--"

Worry creased Beth's features.  "Tony. If you meet up with that other Alpha, he'll kill you."

"Not if I kill him first!"

Beth sighed.  "...let's go back to the hotel and try to track Steve's location, and I'll make sure we send someone to go pick him up," she said.  Tony may have been bonded, but he was the same overly-energetic, selfish jerk she remembered from the nineties. She felt oddly fond of him in that moment.  Tony's was an immature kind of love, but it was love, nonetheless. In his own stunted way, Tony cared about Steve.

On the Beltway, Bucky was headed west at a smooth twenty miles an hour, feeling thoroughly anxious about making good time.  He hoped, desperately, that Steve would have the sense to stay where he was, but if not, he felt relatively confident that he could find his mate through instinct.  Back in the forties, Bucky had managed to hone his tracking abilities to GPS-levels of accuracy; he had to. There had been no cell phones back then, so when Steve got into trouble, it was only through their bond that Bucky could come to his rescue.  Perhaps that was part of the reason Bucky had wanted to be bonded to him in the first place. There had been too many close calls, and after Sarah's death, Steve had gone a little crazy, getting into more scraps and consequently getting slammed against a lot of back-alley walls and knocked and pinned to the cold, hard ground.  Bucky shuddered to think what would have become of Steve if he hadn't always managed to intervene at the last minute. It was almost like Steve _enjoyed_ getting kicked around, like he was punishing himself for being weak.  At times, Bucky enjoyed how spunky his omega was... but others, he hated it, because at the end of the day, he wasn't protecting Steve from all the other Alphas in the world, but from himself.

Steve didn't know where he was walking to. The direction was automatic. He just felt foolish, lost in his own thoughts...he should have known that Yemen hadn't really changed anything and that Pepper would always come first. Jesus, he and Tony weren't even properly mated anymore...why was the Alpha clinging on when he clearly wanted someone else? Why did he even want Steve?  As a prize to spite his father? That was something he refused to be.

Steve knew there was old feelings there. But Bucky coming for him was serious. And yet Tony was more concerned with who Pepper was dating...that said it all, really. Some wake up call it had been, Steve thought. Tony wanted to Steve, so long as he could think about Pepper being his too. Tony must still want a trio, even if he wouldn't say it.  But Steve had been _very_ clear that he didn't.

Or maybe he did.  But not with Pepper.

Shit, this was all so complicated, what was he thinking?

He couldn't talk about any of this with Tony. Not with anyone really. But Steve's heart ached for Bucky. He wasn't afraid of him. He'd known him for over twenty-three years; how could anyone else compete on that sort of level?  Only Bucky had ever really truly understood him; Bucky had loved him before the serum, and Steve had loved him back.

He realised he'd been so lost in his own thoughts he'd stood still on the street. People were moving around him, giving him concerned and funny looks. Steve frowned. And then he saw a car turning the corner and he just... he just _knew_.

Steve walked across the street as the car stopped at the zebra crossing and then turned on his heel and got into the passenger seat. He didn't even look across at him. He didn't need to, to know who it was.

"Drive," Steve told Bucky matter-of-factly. He was about to add 'they'll be tracking us' when he realised.

He lifted his leg in the air and then crushed the ankle bracelet between his fingers like it was made of nothing more than play dough.

* * *

Tony paced frantically, a ball of tension and energy, dander up, eyes cloudy with fury.

Steve's tracker was dead.  Fuck.

"This is all my fault, I pushed him to try on collars, I pushed him to try mating last night, I fucked up, I fucking ruined everything, he could be anywhere now, we're never gonna find him if he's off the grid, oh, fuck..." Tony was too distraught over losing Steve to even snap at Pepper, who had shown up to try to help out, though the situation was looking rather grim.  If Steve didn't want to be found, then they probably wouldn't find him.

"Tony, he left everything here; I'm sure he's going to come back before dinner.  He probably just needs space," she reassured him soothingly.

"No, he's gone, oh, God, my omega, this is my fault, oh God."

"Tony, take a few deep breaths.  I know this is scary but I'm sure--"

"He's with him!  He's with his other Alpha!  His _real_ Alpha!  Oh, God!"

"Anthony Edward Stark."  Pepper grabbed his sleeve and wheeling him around, fixing him with her stern, green gaze.  "I am sure that Steve is okay, and that he is not with his other Alpha, and that he's going to come home."

* * *

Bucky had turned south and had just stopped at a light when suddenly he saw him.

At the same moment, Steve's head snapped up.  It was like they were perfectly in sync again.  Wanda had told Bucky it would get easier to feel him, but still, it was nothing like it had been in the forties.  Bucky felt like it was purely serendipity that he'd somehow found Steve.

Then again, what were the chances?  Had his bond led him here?  He hadn't really been thinking, just driving.  His body had led him to Steve like a divining rod finding water, without any clear mechanism but with inarguable results.

He reached over to open the door, but Steve was already getting in.

The moment he commanded Bucky to drive, Bucky obeyed; he stomped on the gas, cutting off another car and earning a loud, angry honk from the driver he'd nearly hit.

Steve put his leg up on the dashboard and crushed a small metal box strapped to his ankle.  Bucky watched his out of the corner of his eye. "Hiya, Stevie," he said, then added, unnecessarily, "I'm back."  He had about a million questions. He couldn't remember coming home, how he'd gotten here, when the war had ended, when he'd been discharged, only that he was home now.  He didn't know where Karpov was and had been desperately hoping that somehow Steve might be able to tell him or at least point him in the right direction. He wanted to know where the other Alpha was, if Steve had taken care of him, if Bucky needed to go handle it.  But for now he was content to bask in the familiar presence of his best friend and his omega. Steve's smell was rich and warm and familiar, homey as baking bread. He cast a gooey look over at Steve. He had learned lots at the Smithsonian but the exhibit had also raised a lot of questions, like about who the hell Tony Stark was (maybe Howard had changed his name for some bizarre reason?) and why everyone thought he was dead.  Bucky was pretty sure Stark was Steve's war Alpha, and that was okay, Bucky didn't blame Steve, omegas needed an Alpha to take care of him and it was only natural of Steve to need a war Alpha, especially if he thought Bucky was dead. Bucky was hopelessly confused on the timeline, though. Yes, he'd gone off to war, leaving Steve behind. But then Steve had shown up and had led a special force task unit, hadn't he? So how had Steve come back to the states before him?  Hadn't they been together in Europe during the war? Or was that a false memory?  But certainly Steve had been big only in Europe and he was clearly big now, somehow.  So that part was real, the part where Steve was, inexplicably, a foot taller and as bulky with muscle as an Alpha.  Also, had Steve bonded with that other Alpha before or after he'd been in Europe? Unclear. Didn't matter. Bucky was back now, so the other Alpha was out of the picture. They could just pick up where they left off.

"Wanna grab a pie?" asked Bucky conversationally.  He was starving. Literally. Because he had no money and hadn't eaten in well over a day.  The idea of eating a pizza, a real Brooklyn pizza, along with a pitcher of beer and maybe a couple of cigarettes, was so appealing it made his mouth water just thinking about it.  He hadn't had food or beer or, most importantly, nicotine in well over forty-eight hours, and he felt like shit. "I went by Hanley's earlier. D'you know they let in horseshoes now?  What'd you say?"

It was a peace offering.  Hanley's had been Bucky's go-to escape bar whenever he and Steve got into a fight.  Now that they allowed omegas, he and Steve could go together. Bucky was hoping they wouldn't fight anymore.  A lot of their arguments had revolved madly around Steve's health: his inability to mate, to do things for himself, to go out... now that he was healthy, now that he was big and muscular and hardy, hopefully none of those old issues would come into play.  Poor Steve had spent his whole life arguing with Bucky about what he _could_ do, with Bucky trying to hold him back for his own good.  Now he could do it, safely, and Bucky was happy for him, because he knew Steve had hated the limitations his body placed on him.  Now he could keep the house and have whelps and do all the normal things a normal omega would, instead of lying in bed coughing all the time.

Bucky reached his right hand across the lever and set it gently on Steve's knee, craving contact with him.  As unfamiliar and strange as the world was, as lost and confused as the war had left him, this was one thing Bucky was certain of.  That he'd pretty much always be certain of. He was bonded to Steve, he loved Steve, and he'd missed him desperately.

The vague memory of marching back from the POW camp and seeing his neck, the skin virginal, unmarked, seemed like a bad dream now.  Perhaps that had never happened at all. ...hadn't they _always_ been bonded, since 1936, since Steve's mother had died and he'd been all alone and Bucky had taken him in?  ...yes, that seemed right.

"We can't get food right now, Buck," Steve breathed, his gaze eventually drifting over to Bucky. He looked good, or at least, better than he had in the HYDRA base. The serum meant it was hard to tell if someone was really malnourished or not, although Steve did spot bags under his eyes.

The serum meant both of them had heightened metabolism and a much higher demand for calories, but they didn't have that sort of time. They needed to switch cars within the next twenty minutes. Natasha has taught him well. Although honestly, in all this busy city, they might be quicker on foot.  In any case, there was no time for food, even if Steve was sort of hungry, too.

The fact that Bucky remembered the name Hanley’s meant something though and Steve felt a fuzzy sensation in his chest. ...but they'd have to work on the term 'horseshoe.'  Like 'Negro,' it was hopelessly outdated, and just as Steve had had to relearn the terminology to describe people's demographics, so would Bucky.

The touch of Bucky's flesh hand was warm on his leg. Steve stared down and gently took the hand in both of his. Shit. He really was here... he was alive. The chances of survival were so miniscule...and yet here they were. Together again.  A war could not separate them; time could not separate them; literally death could not, had not, separated them. 

Steve traced a finger down the swell of Bucky's palm. He was familiar with these hands, and they hadn't changed. Steve could almost kid himself that Bucky's hands were rough from just working on the dockyard.

His heart was beating faster in his chest. Steve needed to focus, but Bucky was here, he was alive, he was okay, he was--

\--not so great at driving.

"Buck. Find somewhere to stop the car." Steve knew he had to be careful with instructions, that Bucky might sometimes take them too literally.

Bucky felt happy when Steve took his hand.  His fingers traced Bucky's palm and Bucky shot him a tiny smile.

Then Steve told him to stop.  He pulled into the first spot on the curb he could; Steve got out, and Bucky's heart dropped.  Was he leaving? Had Bucky done something wrong?

When Bucky did Steve got out and walked around, getting him to budge along so he could get into the driver's seat. Bucky had looked worried for a moment, like he'd thought Steve was leaving. He definitely wasn't.

Steve came around to Bucky's side.  Bucky stared at him blankly; Steve pushed him into the passenger's side.  Bucky almost laughed when he realized Steve wanted to drive. A _breeder_ , _driving_!

Down at the docks, the other guys often jabbed at Bucky for spoiling and indulging his omega. It was true, Bucky was indulgent; he thought Steve's attitude was cute and besides, Steve was sick.  Bucky couldn't stand to put Steve in his place and he was worried any punishment might hurt him. So, yes, he indulged Steve in his outrageous insistence on doing the sort of things Alphas and betas did, in part because Bucky thought it was adorable and quirky and in part because he just couldn't stand to see Steve be disappointed.

Steve was talking, but Bucky was still basking in the amusement of seeing Steve behind the wheel of a car.  He was actually pretty good.

With Steve driving they were moving much more efficiently. Steve had no real direction in mind. They needed to find a car park, steal a different car, and then get out of the city. He didn't know where they would go after that. It didn't matter. What mattered was keeping Bucky safe. Steve wasn't even sure whose side Natasha was on right now.

"We need to get out of the city and away from cameras," Steve breathed, taking a turn a little sharper than necessary. "But if they catch up with us, you don't fight anyone, alright Buck? You just put your hands up. You don't try and kill Tony. They all think that you're dangerous--"  Another sharp turn.  "Prove them wrong."

"...cameras?" repeated Bucky, brow furrowing.  What cameras? What was Steve's deal with cameras?  Bucky had a flash of memory, a memory of Steve saying he didn't want to mate in front of a camera.  Was Steve saying he wanted to go somewhere to mate? Bucky perked up a little. "Sure, where do you want to go?  ...home?" Bucky's brow furrowed even more. "Tony... you mean that other Alpha? Don't worry about him, Stevie, I'll take care of him."  Bucky most certainly _would_ kill Tony, if he had to.  If Tony ever came anywhere near his omega again, he would tear him to pieces.

"This is the twenty-first century Buck. There's cameras everywhere," Steve breathed, taking another sharp turn with ease. "You have a mobile, right? Please drop it out the window. They'll be able to track it."

 _They,_ of course, being Tony.

"And I don't want you to do anything to Tony. I especially don't want you to hurt him," Steve said, voice getting a little thick. His brow furrowed. He saw a sign for a parking garage and headed towards it. They could maybe rent a car there. Or maybe it would be better to steal one? Steve didn't like stealing, but in terms of avoiding detection, not leaving a trail, it was probably better.

"We... I don't think we _have_ a home anymore," Steve murmured. Not like that anyway. Did he have a home with Tony? Right now it didn't feel like it. He thought back to his room full of drawings, his own private space, his studio... that should have been evidence that Tony's mansion was his home.  But then there were all those sketchbooks in his drawers where he had to hide all his pictures of Bucky. Because if Tony had seen them he would have freaked.  Was it really his home if he was keeping secrets in it like that?

"I don't actually know where we're going," he admitted sombrely. "I've just got to get you somewhere safe."

"Me and Pietro and the girl stayed at motels a lot," offered Bucky as they turned toward a garage, rolling down the window and tossing out his phone.  Motels were good because most of them accepted cash. However, Bucky had no cash. But he could obtain some if Steve directed him to. "Don't you worry about Tony, Steve, _really._  I'll take care of it," Bucky reassured him, reaching over to pat Steve's leg.  Poor Steve. He seemed so wired, so tense. Bucky wasn't sure why. Colonel Karpov would be able to direct them where to go, if they could find him.  But Bucky needed Steve to calm down first.

"Pietro and Wanda? The mutant twins from the HYDRA base in Yemen?  You know where they are?" Steve asked, sounding hopeful. He'd always wondered how those kids were doing, if they'd gotten out. He hoped they were okay. And he was grateful that they'd at least gotten Bucky out, or had by the sounds of it.

"...Pietro and the girl made me leave," said Bucky flatly. He couldn't say that it hurt, exactly, but he wished they hadn't done that and he didn't understand why they had.

"Made you leave?" Steve frowned. Maybe Bucky had gotten violent, or compromised them, or maybe he wasn't safe around Pietro. There was a multitude of potential reasons.

"If there's cameras everywhere, where do we mate?" asked Bucky.  He didn't like Steve's constant fretting about cameras. It was making him uneasy.

Surely it wasn't that hard to just... disappear?  Bucky did it all the time. Nearly every mission he'd ever been on had required discretion and he had never had an issue that he could remember.  You looked around, found the camera, and crushed it, easy-peasy.

"And we're not- I'm not mating you Buck. You have to get better. _That's_ the priority here, do you understand?"  Steve asked, stealing a glance sideways at him. "We're going to hot wire a bike. I'll leave money in this car." Then it sort of wasn't stealing. "Then we're going to get the hell out of here.  And I don't _want_ you to 'take care of it.' I do _not_ want you to engage, Buck," Steve said firmly as he took another corner, down a narrow street towards the garage. They'd take a bike. They could go faster on a bike. "Can you hot wire a bike?" he asked.

Bucky frowned when Steve told him not to engage and then said they weren't mating.  What the hell? How dare Steve, an omega, give _him_ orders.  Bucky had followed lots of orders with the hope that it would please Steve and he'd get to mate him.  This was bullshit.

"I'm not hot wiring a bike.  Bikes are very easy to track," said Bucky sulkily.  Didn't Steve know anything?

The moment Steve parked the car, Bucky got out and began looking around, scanning the cars.  There, perfect: a blue Ford Focus.

The trick to car-stealing was to get something ubiquitous.  Motorcycles were easy to spot. Bucky hadn't been on a bike since the eighties.

He found a second blue Ford Focus and pried off the license plate, swapping them.  An easy trick, one that could shake off authorities for two or three days. If you kept finding the same car and swapping plates, you could use the same car for weeks.  Even better, if you could find three or four of the same car and swap all the plates around, you could bamboozle the authorities almost indefinitely.

"Fine," Steve sighed. Shame. He preferred bikes but admittedly Bucky knew a lot more about all this than he did. Steve might have been more mentally stable but he didn't have the expertise.

Steve left the car with his wallet (forgoing the cards and one twenty-dollar bill) in the front seat. There was more than enough money in it. He didn't like stealing but he also understood when it was necessary. They'd stolen plenty of cars in France.

The door of the blue Ford Focus was locked; Bucky reached down to the bottom edge and, with his left hand, pried it open, leaving a dent there that was surprisingly subtle.  He checked under the sun visor and in the glove box automatically for keys (some people were stupid), but finding none, cracked open the bottom of the dashboard and got to work.  The car roared to life and Bucky felt temporarily pleased with himself for so effectively getting them transportation. Objective complete.

Then he felt annoyance again.  He sat back on his heels and looked up at Steve.  "What do you mean, _get better_?" he demanded petulantly.  "Why can't we get food? Why can't we mate?  Why can't we at least stop somewhere for a pack of smokes?  Geez Louise, Stevie, I _just_ got back from the war, can't a man just _relax_ for a while?  You're acting all screwy.  You're safe now, you can calm down."  Steve's domineering attitude was usually charming, but right now, Bucky was feeling annoyed by Steve acting like _he_ was in charge.  He'd never put Steve in his place and this, he supposed, was the natural consequence of that.  Steve was an uppity, demanding, spoiled omega who thought he had the right to tell Bucky where they were going and what they were doing and when they were mating.  Bucky was hoping this bad behavior was just a consequence Steve being upset by that Tony fellow, and once he'd calmed down a little, he would perhaps start acting normal.

"I'm not going _anywhere_ without getting a pack of Strikes first."

Steve blinked when Bucky started complaining and then his face broke into smile. Because that-- _that_ was the real Bucky; complaining about not having smoke for a while, even when they'd be getting goddamn shot at. Dum-Dum would find it hilarious. Steve sometimes found Bucky's priorities worrying.

"Fine. Jeez. We can get food and some cigarettes  if only to stop you from complaining, but then we have to get on the move, Buck," Steve sighed and leaned against the side of the car, watching him. For a moment they were back in the forties again, arguing behind enemy lines whilst Falsworth poured over maps. Except this was a different century and Steve was helping a wanted criminal escape.

Oh well, he wasn't with SHIELD anymore, was he?  He had no obligation to them.  But, to Bucky... well, they were bonded, after all.

"But if you _ever_ act entitled to sex again, then God help me Buck, you're not getting any," he added with a dry laugh.

Bucky cocked his head.  "I thought I wasn't gettin' any anyway," he challenged.  He was hoping, really, really hoping, that Steve might give him some sort of fucking _hint_.  Steve was being incredibly difficult.

At least he'd said that they could get cigarettes.

Also, it was rich, _Steve_ telling _Bucky_ not to act entitled to sex.  Steve had been begging Bucky for _years_.  Now what, now that he was all big and muscular, he was going to dangle this over Bucky's head?  Just to watch him squirm?

...jerk.

Bucky looked at him fondly.  He'd missed all these petty little squabbles.  He'd missed _Steve._

"Did I mention I missed you like crazy?" asked Bucky, standing up.  Steve had gotten taller. A lot taller. They were eye-to-eye. Maybe Bucky had an inch on him, but he was no longer _towering_ over Steve like he once had.

He reached out and pulled Steve into an embrace, nuzzling the top of his head, the soft blond hair.  "My omega... my sweet fuckin' omega, God, I missed you..." he murmured into Steve's hair, holding him.  It was impossible stay mad at Steve, even when he was acting like a brat.

Bucky had always accepting the teasing from the guys down at the dock with a smile and a shrug.  Yeah, he _knew_ he spoiled his omega, he _knew_ Steve was out of control, but he didn't care, he loved Steve's spark.  He'd always loved that. Steve was unlike any omega Bucky had ever known.

"The situation is very complicated Buck," Steve breathed. "...I don't think you understand.  We're on the run, which is why we can't mate, and even if we _weren't_ on the run, it would be wrong.  It would feel like I was taking advantage of you," he pointed out and watched Bucky finish up with the car. They should have been going but then Bucky was pulling him into a hug and he couldn't stop himself from leaning into it.

When Bucky said he was _his_ it didn't feel wrong. Should it have?

Steve was so confused.  His bond was a total mess; he felt Bucky's calm and Tony's panic, Bucky's sense that things were finally right and Tony's sense that they were horribly wrong.  He felt like he was being emotionally drawn and quartered.

Steve curled his arms against Bucky's chest and tucked his head under his chin, letting his eyes slip shut. "Bucky, I--" His voice was thick. Bucky smelt of cigarette smoke. It was oddly comforting. For a moment they were curled up on a couch in their apartment again. "I never would have let him mate me. Not if I knew you were alive," he whispered, voice trembling.

The realization and confession washed over him with a chill.

Bucky's gut twisted.  "Oh, Stevie... Stevie, it's okay..."

It wasn't okay.  The idea of Steve losing his virginity to some other Alpha was revolting.  The idea of Stark with his paws all over Steve made Bucky feel sick.  The idea of another Alpha trying to bite over his mark felt like a very personal violation.

But he didn't blame Steve; how could he?  He'd seen the exhibit; everyone thought he was dead, and he'd known when he was shipped off that Steve might take a war Alpha.

It was _Stark_ he blamed. Not Steve.

"Stevie, it's okay, I love you, I'm back now," Bucky reassured him.

Steve swallowed. And then he pulled back.

"We should go. I'll drive."

Bucky's mouth twitched a little at Steve's insistence on driving.  So cute. "Yeah, okay. Okay, you drive," he said, amused.

He got into the passenger's seat, twisting so he could stroke Steve's neck with his good hand, the one actually capable of feeling Steve's warmth.  It was instinctual, to check that their mark was still there, unaltered.  Thankfully, it was.  He traced it, their mark, and found that it was the same as it had been since 1936.

His memory of Steve's neck being unbitten in Italy, then, that must be a false memory, a half-remembered dream.

Steve's war Alpha had not been able to rebond him.  Their mark spoke of Bucky's claim in clear, unambiguous way.

His expression turned soft as he stroked Steve's skin.  When Steve looked over, he was met with a part of alert grey eyes, eyes that were completely and utterly different than the vacant windows that had been the Winter Soldier's.

He smiled, hesitantly, and Bucky returned his smile immediately.  Bucky felt more like, well, _Bucky_ , than he had in ages.  Being with Steve again had filled a hole in his heart that he hadn't even known was there.

"Cigarettes first," he demanded.  His fingers brushed over the ridges on the back of Steve's neck, and for the first time since the damned war had started, Bucky felt _home_.


	6. A Home for Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to DevilChild101 who died last chapter of a broken heart, and to MarvelMakesMeFeelThings, who appears to be the lone #TeamStucky supporter. - Tony

Tony paced frantically, a ball of tension and energy, dander up, eyes cloudy with fury.

Steve's tracker was dead.  Fuck.

"This is all my fault, I pushed him to try on collars, I pushed him to try mating last night, I fucked up, I fucking ruined everything, he could be anywhere now, we're never gonna find him if he's off the grid, oh, fuck..." Tony was too distraught over losing Steve to even snap at Pepper, who had shown up to try to help out, though the situation was looking rather grim.  If Steve didn't want to be found, then they probably wouldn't find him.

Steve was missing.

Again.

It had been less than a month since Yemen and he was once again on the lam.  Currently, the only ones aware of the situation were Tony, Aria, Pepper, Tony's six bodyguards, Natasha, and Clint.  And, of course, probably everyone in SHIELD. The moment the tracker had gone dead, they'd probably mobilized.

"I'm sure he'll come back eventually," said Pepper soothingly, trying to break up Tony's pacing.  She kept inserting herself in front of him; Tony simply zipped around her, walking back and forth across the carpeted length of his luxurious hotel suite,

"I don't get why you even need the tracker.  Can't you just use your bond to locate him?" asked Happy casually.

Tony froze, mid-pace.  Of _course_!  Tony was so used to relying on technology that he'd completely forgotten he could do that.

He closed his eyes, trying to find the bond.  But it felt different now. Not as strong.

_Steve..._

He was pining for his omega.  He had to find him; he had to fix this.  Everything was wrong; everything was weird.  Ever since they had tried mating, Tony had been acutely aware of how different everything was now.  Steve had promised he wouldn't leave, but he had. Of course he had. What omega could resist the draw of their primary Alpha, of their first bond?

 _Steve_...

Tony was frozen, stock-still, desperate to find his omega, to try to fix things.  He felt Pepper's hand on his shoulder but he barely even registered it. His mind was elsewhere, searching for his omega, for the bond he knew was still there, for the man whose scent sang to him, for the stupid, courageous, hard-headed blond that was Tony's best friend and partner.  For the omega he was missing. For his other half.

* * *

Steve was just starting up the car when Bucky stroked at his neck and suddenly his entire body felt like it was on fire. His eyes widened and he paused, hands frozen on the steering wheel. Bucky had probably touched him a thousand times there before but this time it felt different. It was mark he'd left that Steve didn't even remember happening. He thought about the way Tony touched him there. Bucky's fingers traced over his own scar. Steve trembled.

"We'll find a petrol station on the way out. They'll have some cigarettes," Steve breathed, taking them in the direction of the nearest highway.  He swatted Bucky's hand away.

Bucky took a hint and looked out the window.  His expression was blank.  As if this new century and all its wonders didn't fascinate him in the slightest.  The old Bucky would have had eyes like dinner plates.

"Do you... do you know what year it is?" asked Steve tenatively, wondering how aware Bucky actually was of his surroundings. "Because it's--"

He froze. There was a tight feeling in his chest, almost a cold sensation. He looked down at himself. Was this...was this Tony? Fuck. It was. "Sure, he can want to sleep with his best friend but the minute _I_ do something mental he tries emotional blackmail," Steve muttered to himself, frowning as he turned a corner sharper than he should have. "Typical. Fucking typical. But you know what? My self-esteem isn't low enough to put with that shit," he half-talking to himself but he was okay with that. "He's _made_ his bed. He can fucking lie in it.  _Alone_."

It had been a fragile and delicate moment. The minute Bucky had called him up. But when Tony had started to complaining to Pepper about Happy everything had broken down in Steve's mind. And instead of everything being confusing and complicated it had all suddenly become very clear.

Steve took another sharp turn.

 _Leave_.

He cut in front of a car.

_Me._

Then he sped ahead.

_Alone._

He made himself feel as angry and sharp as he could, hoping Tony would take the hint.  If he didn't, fine.  Steve could do this all day.

* * *

Natasha was on loud speaker as she drove over. "What made him walk out, exactly?  Was it something Bucky said?"

"Only Steve could hear Bucky," Pepper filled in quietly. "So we don't know."

"I'm just trying to work out, if he left for a specific reason... then that might tell us where he might be headed," Natasha explained, her tone kind and practical. "But as far as I'm aware Steve doesn't exactly have any safe houses lined up."

_Leave me alone._

Tony felt like Steve was shoving him away.  Omegas couldn't distance themselves from bonds.  Only Alphas could. But Steve's emotions made it clear that he didn't want to be bothered.  There was no longing there.  Just cold anger.

Tony sat down on the end of the bed, putting his face into his hands.  "I don't know. I don't know... I called Pepper and then we were arguing and then I turned around and he was just go--"  Tony stopped. He looked up at Pepper, staring. It clicked. Steve was _jealous_.  Tony could have laughed out loud.  Steve, double-bonded Steve. Steve, whose body hadn't even chosen Tony as his primary Alpha.  Steve, who Tony had been faithful to for almost a year now, his longest-ever stretch of monogamy.  He was jealous! Ha! It was almost laughable.

Pepper was Tony's best friend.  She was drop-dead gorgeous and wickedly smart.  She was composed and business-savvy and knew exactly what to say and do all the time.  Tony loved her, yes. He probably always would.

But there were two factors Steve clearly didn't understand.  First of all, Tony had been asking Pepper out for years and she always said no.  Second of all, Pepper was a beta. Tony liked women, sure. He loved 'em. But Steve's appeal, as an omega, would always outrank that.

Motherfucker, was Steve really _that_ insecure?  Tony had been reassuring him for weeks that he was okay with Steve being double-bonded and that it wasn't his fault, and now he was going to go crazy over a little crush?

"It's my fault," said Tony.  "Steve was... was upset, and I got sidetracked and I was upset about Pepper dating Happy.  That's why he left."

There was a pause on the phone while Natasha considered this.  "...why do you care who she dates?" asked Natasha finally.

 _"Thank you_!" exclaimed Pepper, throwing up her hands.

"Why does Steve care if I care?" replied Tony furiously.  "It's not like I was proposing a fuckin' triad! Steve's been acting weird ever since--"  Tony didn't bother to finish.

Steve was an emotional wreck.  Tony had failed to mate him, failed to consummate whatever bond they had left, and then he'd put Steve through trying on collars... of course Steve cared.  Steve was a product of his time, a time when omegas were treated like shit. Of course he had self-esteem issues.

Tony felt it was thoroughly hypocritical of Steve to run off with his _other_ Alpha over the whole Pepper thing, but whatever.

"He left 'cause of me.  He didn't feel appreciated.  He was jealous of Pepper. It's my fault," said Tony, staring down at his hands.

"You just never turn off the playboy thing, do you?" asked Natasha drily.

"What, I'm not allowed to _look_?  I'm not allowed to _fantasize_?"

"Please don't fantasize about me," requested Pepper.

"Look, I don't even care about Steve coming back, I just-- I just want to make sure he's safe--"  Tony's voice was shaking. "--that Bucky character is a dangerous maniac, a stone-cold killer.  Who _knows_ what the hell he's doing right now?"

* * *

Bucky rolled down the window before lighting his cigarette.  He put his good arm out the window, enjoying the taste of the cigarette and the cool air on his skin.  "Oh, look, Steve," he said, pulling his arm back into the car. "...there's a ladybug on my hand."

* * *

"Steve can handle him. He's not in an induced heat now, remember," Natasha assured him coolly over the phone. "He might know what he's doing. But least he stopped Bucky from coming to the hotel. He really would have killed you, Tony."

Happy frowned at the thought.

Pepper sighed and moved to take one of the seats in the room. "In...in Steve's heat..." She ran a hand over her face, then looked at Tony, her expression pained. "He told me you were always going to love me more." It obviously made her uncomfortable to say it. "I thought it was just his heat talking... but maybe not."

Tony stared at Pepper, not sure what to say to this.

He loved Pepper, yeah.  But he loved her very differently than Steve.  Didn't Steve get that?

Tony shook his head.  "It's not the same, Pepper.  He's my scent-mate.  We're compatible on a deep, instinctual, pheromonal level.  ...at least, I thought we were.  I don't know, right now."  And with that, he went back to pacing.

An hour passed. It was tense and stressful. Natasha had her safe houses checked (the ones that Steve knew about in the area, anyway), but there was nothing. SHIELD intel had nothing either. She'd trained him too well.  That, or it was the Winter Soldier's skills.  Perhaps a deadly combination of both.

Aria had appeared at Tony's suite shortly after Natasha, and looked distraught. Happy had poured her a whiskey and her hands shook as she drank it. Painful quiets ebbed and flowed. No one knew what to say.  No one stopped Tony when he cracked open a second bottle of Jack Daniel's and passed it around.

The next hour went by, slowly, uncomfortably.  When Tony's phone beeped, he jumped.

There were three messages from an unknown number.

_ > I'm taking him somewhere safe. _

_ > Don't try to find him. Or me. _

_ > I'll be back tomorrow night. _

"It's Steve!" he yelled.

Everyone crowded around  to read the texts.

Tony stared at the words, unsure of what he was supposed to feel.  The texts were without emotion. Was Steve mad at him? Steve was coming back... that was good, right?  But he was with Bucky. He was taking him somewhere "safe."

Tony felt a twinge of anger.  How come _he_ was in trouble for having a crush while Steve was off gallivanting with his other Alpha?  Was Tony just supposed to be okay with Steve having Bucky on the side like this?

"...maybe I should... should just distance the bond.  Let Bucky have him," said Tony shakily, staring down at the phone.

"Don't say that, Tony," admonished Pepper.

"What if he's happier with Bucky?  I don't want to be in a trio with another Alpha..."

"It's not a trio," said Aria stubbornly.  "Steve's always been very clear about that."

Tony stared down at the phone.  His hands were shaking. He didn't know how to react or what to feel anymore.  This was all too complicated. And Steve was giving him nothing.

"...I'll work on an alibi.  SHIELD can't know about Bucky," said Natasha firmly.  "We can say Steve had a meltdown, went on the lam, he's sorry, it won't happen again... they'll give him another tracker and that'll be that."

"We need to say where he was, though," said Tony.  He chewed his lip. "Banksy would probably lie for us.  Call Banksy, and Ty. Ask if they'll say Steve was with them.  It's easy to believe he wrecked the tracker and then went to hang out with some other omegas for support, right?"

"Good call," said Aria, pulling out her phone.

Well, that was that.  Tony had done all he could.  Now he just had to wait for Steve to return.  He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"Where are you going, Tony?" asked Pepper.

Tony snagged a bottle of liquor from the bar.  "I'm going to bed," he said. And that's exactly what he did.

* * *

"Where are we going, Steve?" asked Bucky, watching the landscape pass them by.  He was feeling thoroughly bored. A new sensation. The Winter Soldier did not suffer from boredom.  But Bucky sure as hell did.

He watched Steve.  Steve looked and felt stressed beyond all measure.  Bucky felt bad for him and wanted to help but had no idea what Steve wanted.  Earlier, Steve had asked the year, and that made Bucky worried about him. It was '44, wasn't it?  ...or... or was it '45 already? Well, anyways, it was sometime around there and Steve oughtta know.

"We've been drivin' for hours.  Can't we take a break?" Bucky was trying not to be difficult, but he was sick of sitting in the car.  More than anything in the world, he wanted to find a bed and lay down in it with Steve in his arms and kiss him like they used to before the war.  "It's gettin' late and we still haven't eaten. C'mon, let's find a nice restaurant. Let me take you out on a date, Steve. It's been ages. You need to unwind.  What'd you say?" Bucky was hoping Steve would see the sense in what Bucky was saying. They couldn't just drive forever. Did Steve even know where he was going? For once, Bucky was thinking not about the present, but the future.  For once, he cared about where he was going.

"Bucky, _please_."

Steve's voice sounded broken, empty. He looked tired but he was still driving just fine. He had a ways to go. "I know where we're going. It won't be long now. Just sleep Buck; you should get some sleep." His voice was akin to a worried mother's, pushy but laced with concern. Steve clearly wanted Bucky to shut up and rest. There were points in the drive when he refused to look at the Alpha and looked like he might cry, but he pushed on through. He'd taken them far out of the city by now and he was headed south.

The phone he'd bought from the gas station chimed in his lap. He pulled over and picked it up to look at it, the screen angled away from Bucky.

_ > They'll be waiting for you at the safe house. - PC  
_

_ > I know it won't be easy Steve. But you have to trust me. This is what's best for him. - PC  
_

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat and replied one-handed: _I know._

He placed the phone back on his lap and pulled back out onto the road.

"Maybe we could... could go on a date tomorrow Buck," Steve said, his voice thick. "Yeah. Tomorrow. That'll be perfect. I'll wear blue, you like it when I wear blue, don't you?" His bottom lip trembled. _Fuck_. 

Bucky got one of his small, rare smiles at the suggestion of a date.  "Okay. Tomorrow," he agreed. "...I _do_ love it when you wear blue."

"Just...just sleep for now, Bucky. Please. We'll get there soon. Just sleep."

Bucky fell asleep because Steve had asked him to, and remained asleep for the rest of the car ride south, out of New York and into Pennsylvania, as the sun set and the moon rose.

Steve got to the safe house around two in the morning, thoroughly exhausted from the drive. Bucky was mercifully asleep by then. The safe house was more of a cabin. There was a navy Land Rover outside of it, but that was all, and the house was surrounded by a sparse sprinkling of pine trees. There was no other houses or cars in sight. Bucky grunted, half awake, as Steve parked the car. He got out and walked around to the passenger seat. "I'll just be a moment Buck," he whispered and leaned down to brush his hair out of his eyes; he was still mostly asleep then. Unconsciousness had worn out some of his edges.  He looked tired, gaunt.  Like he had not been eating or sleeping well recently.

He probably hadn't.

Steve had his heart in his throat.

He went up to the cabin and took the steps two at a time before he opened the door and shut it behind him. He slumped against the door heavily, exhausted both physically and emotionally.

"This--" His voice cracked as he spoke. "This has been the hardest day of my life."

Ten years ago, Nick Fury had helped Clint and Laura Barton buy a farm in Montana.  The farm was not in any SHIELD records. Now, over a decade later, he had been called upon for a similar task.  He didn't owe Steve or Natasha or Clint anything. But Nick Fury was a practical man. Bucky was not safe out in the world alone, where HYDRA could snatch him up.  Bucky was also not safe in SHIELD, which was infiltrated. They did not know the extent to which it was. Jasper Sitwell was the only known mole, and because Natasha and Clint and Sam and Phil and Tony hadn't gone through due process, he had been let go.  Fury had had every intention to go after him and arrest him properly, after reading him his Miranda rights. But in the couple of hours between his release and the arrest, he had slipped away, slippery little eel that he was. SHIELD was compromised and the Avengers Initiative was dead.  But Bucky needed contained. Those were the simple facts.

Fury knew for certain there were two people he could trust: Maria Hill and Phil Coulson.  He and Maria had been partners for ages, and Phil might as well have been bonded to his job.

The three of them looked up when the door slammed.  They had been playing cards at the table; Maria was mercilessly destroying the other two.

"...did you bring him?" asked Fury.  All three of them wore identical masks; there was no hint of sympathy, anger, or anything else.  Just mild, professional detachment. Steve's demands for handing him over had been simple: he wanted Bucky to be safe.  No one in the world could promise that. But Natasha and Fury were the closest there were.

Outside, Bucky woke to find himself alone.  Huh.

He got out of the car to stretch.  He wasn't sure where he was. There was a dark house in front of him; he knew, automatically, that's where Steve was.  He lit a cigarette, smoked it, and then crushed it beneath the toe of his shoe before climbing the stairs to the house.

When he entered, he saw Steve first, and the man with the eyepatch second.

A memory seized him.

_Objective: capture the blond.  Kill the man with the eyepatch._

He lunged.

Bucky's entrance and attack had been too sudden for Fury to react; he was slammed against the wall.  Phil and Maria drew their weapons. For a split second, it appeared Phil was going to shoot Bucky.

And shoot him he did.  But it wasn't with a bullet.

Within a few seconds, Bucky's grip on Fury had loosened and his body had begun to go limp.

"Let this be a warning to you, Captain," said Phil, holding the dart gun in his hand.  "SHIELD has developed tranqs for you. ...just in case."

"That's sweet of you," Steve breathed dryly, watching Bucky's long hair fall back from his face as Fury pushed him with a grunt.

"God _damn_!" said Fury, rolling Bucky's limp body off of him.  He rose, dusting off his leather jacket. "I thought you said he was in his right mind, Rogers!"

"He is when he's just with me. Or... right enough. He thinks it's the forties, that the war has just ended." His voice caught a little as he spoke. Steve was trying to hold it together in front of these people but it wasn't easy. Phil came to stand next to him. Their elbows brushed.

"You did well to get him here so quickly."

Steve hadn't stopped driving aside from three small breaks, two of them to get the cigarettes and the burner phone. He was goddamn exhausted.

"He'll probably be put into cryo," Maria and Steve's head snapped up in alarm. "It's a precaution. You can't treat someone until you know what the 'antidote' is. It's safer this way. Apparently in HYDRA he has a reputation for maiming or killing doctors."

"But you won't let me know what doctor he's even going to?"

"It'll be easier to cut you off now Steve. I know this is hard," Phil was trying to be nice about it. Steve could tell. "The chance of James ever being safe enough to be let back out into society is..."

"Like less than 1%. Okay I get it. So what? He's going to live out the rest of his days in a freezer?" Steve asked.

"He's _very_ lucky to have been given this chance," Maria pointed out sternly. "And to have gotten to see you again."

"Bucky would want you to live your life again Steve," Phil said. "Now... could you lift him onto a stretcher for us?"

Bucky was goddamn heavy. Heavier than Steve. The metal arm didn't exactly help either. Steve grunted as he lifted him and then carried him over to a stretcher laid out on a table, his arms protesting like crazy. He stared down at the man's now-peaceful face, his hair framing him like a halo.

"Natasha is coming to pick you up in the morning in a jet. We'll be leaving now. There's food in the fridge and a bed and bathroom through there," Nick said, finally speaking up again. "Get some sleep Captain."

Phil put a hand on Steve's arm. "Any... last words?" He frowned as he said it. Bucky was unconscious. What good would they do?

Steve let out a ragged breath. He would _not_ cry in front of these people. He tried to think of something meaningful to say but nothing felt quite right.

Staring down at Bucky's limp, unconscious form, he was reminded of the heavy, ancient silence of the graveyard in Long Island.  How Tony had stood there staring down at his parents, his mourning done privately, without the advantage of knowing how to express his sorrow.  " _Cher seigneur, donne-nous de la force dans nos temps de perte. Souvenons-nous de ce qui était précieux, retenons ce qui a été perdu. Pouvons-nous être reconnaissants pour notre passé partagé, et pleurer notre avenir perdu,_ " he whispered and then he stepped back, letting them take Bucky to put him into the back of the SUV.

Steve found he couldn't bear to watch. He turned back and walked down into the bedroom, and shut the door behind him.

Phil watched Steve go.  He was unbonded and didn't fully understand what Steve must be going through right now.  But the misery was palpable. Even a beta could probably feel it.

"Where _are_ we taking him?" asked Phil quietly.

"PEGASUS," said Fury.  "There's cryo chambers there, and enough security to deal with him.  Plus, Barton's been assigned there to help guard..." He gave them a meaningful look.  "He can handle the Winter Soldier, in a worse-case scenario."

They all nodded.

"Off the record," added Fury.

"Off the record," echoed Maria.  "...Phil, do you want to do the honors?"  She handed him a new tracking bracelet.

Phil walked back into the cabin; it seemed lonely.  He walked over to Steve's door and knocked. "Captain?  I apologize, but we have to outfit you with a new ankle monitor.  For security reasons."

Steve was seated on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking a little. He lifted his head up and steepled his hands beneath his chin, his eyes watering a little, but he wasn't crying. He stared at the wall straight ahead and didn't look at Phil when he came in.

"I wanted so badly for him to be okay.. .but he's not, is he? I don't even think he's there. I don't know. Maybe I just want him to be."  He sighed and then moved to ride his jean leg up so Phil could come and fasten the bracelet on.

"You might have worried people, but you kept Bucky and Tony apart. That would have been messy," Phil pointed out.

Steve paused.

"They want to kill each other," he breathed. "They both think the other is the terrible person - just for wanting the same thing that they do."

"Well, Bucky did force-bond you," Phil pointed out.

"Bucky was just as force-bonded as I was, Phil," Steve pointed out. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I don't know.  Maybe I'm an idiot for still caring about him."

"...caring for other people isn't logical.  But it's human," said Phil, fastening the ankle bracelet.  "...now don't break this one. We'll come up with an alibi for you, but this was part of an international treaty, so we can't afford to have you fall off the grid again like that, okay?"  He looked up, his hands still on Steve's ankle. "...they say you were shopping for collars earlier today. Is everything okay, Steve?"

It was a genuine question, but Steve didn't get to answer it; Maria came in.

"Coulson, let's go.  We're on a time crunch."

"Yes, Agent Hill."  Phil turned and stalked out, glancing over his shoulder.  "Take care, Captain." He closed the door behind him, leaving Steve alone in bed.

* * *

Tony had been reassured Steve would return the next night, but alone in bed, he stayed up, staring at the swirled white patterns on the ceilings, which were illuminated by his chest, and he wondered if he even wanted Steve back.  Steve had made it clear that he didn't want Tony messing around with his brain, and Tony had very purposely avoided trying to bother Steve with their bond.

Steve had run off to be with Bucky.  He was coming back, but Tony was more aware than ever than he was only a "secondary" Alpha.  And he wondered if maybe, in part, this was some sort of revenge. Steve said he liked making points.  Tony had gone out to look at collars with him, and Steve had turned around and run off with some other Alpha... what better way to demonstrate to Tony that Tony wasn't in control?

Tony didn't want to talk to anyone and preferred to be along with his whiskey and his thoughts. He spent the night wondering what the hell he was supposed to do or say when Steve returned.  Steve had lost it over an old and well-known crush... and after all his fucking talk of monogamy, was Tony just supposed to be cool with the whole Bucky thing?

He didn't know what the answer was and had decided just to wait.  Steve would come back and Tony would just... follow his lead. That wasn't an ideal solution, but it was the only one Tony could think of, and he stayed up late turning it over and over in his head.

Equations without equal signs had always been one of Tony Stark's greatest aversions.

* * *

Steve woke in the morning to the sound of a chopper's engine outside. He sat up wearily, having not gotten much sleep. Tony's own confusion and misery was lodged deep in Steve's chest and he felt positively ill with it. He had a lot to say to Tony, but he had to say it in person. When he stepped out into the cabin's tiny kitchenette Natasha was already inside, a coffee in each hand. "You're really not good at this normal life thing, you know that?"

She handed Steve his drink. "Tony is pretty torn up."

"He would have been if Bucky got to him," Steve pointed out as he took the offered drink. It was black coffee. He pulled a face.

"There's ten shots in there. I figured you'd feel the effects," Natasha told him, leaning back against the counter, one hand wrapped around her mug. "So... am I dropping you back at the hotel?"

"Yeah, but there's a few stops I want to make first," Steve breathed.

"Where ever you want, pal."  Steve was thankful that she didn't press him.

They finished their coffees.  Steve insisted on washing the mugs and putting them in a drying rack before they left; Natasha rolled her eyes at him.  But he refused to leave the cabin messy.

With the dishes taken care of, they left the cabin together.  In between the scattered pines was a helicopter, smaller than ones Steve'd been in before. It said something about Natasha's piloting skills that she had landed the bird in such a small area. 

"So... Tony...?" asked Steve, as they stepped over the springy bed of pine needles.

"Utterly devastated," said Natasha frankly.

"...I know.  I can feel it.  But why?  I told him yesterday I was coming back.  Does he thinks I got back with him, or something?"

"Did you?"

Steve's face was stony. "I'm not sure there's even somewhere there to get back to."

He climbed into the copter, a little two-person craft.  Lightweight, practical.

Natasha got in and strapped in, frowning a little as she began flipping switches and checking meters, preparing for take-off.  "I don't get it, Steve. I heard from Clint, who talked to Phil, that when you brought him here, he was feral.  He attacked Fury. But you two had a perfectly peaceful drive over. ...around you, he's still at least partially there.  And you didn't answer my question. Not that it's my business. But I wouldn't tell Tony, if you did. ...anyway, where do you want to go first?"

"He was asking to mate me, Nat. I think he had some pretty clear goals in mind. But he's fought Fury before, shot at him-- it's not all that surprising that he automatically went to attack him," Steve said quietly. "And I didn't-- Jesus Christ, I wouldn't sleep with someone who doesn't even know what year it is. I also don't want to be a cheater."

Natasha didn't reply to this.

...maybe it was just because of the noise of the helicopter.  Yeah, that was it, Steve consoled himself.

She'd brought the ship to a hover.

Being an Alpha, Natasha could smell him; he didn't smell like sex.  But he and Bucky had been together the better part of the day. Who knows what they'd gotten up to?  Their bond was stronger. That much was obvious.

"You have an alibi.  You had an emotional reaction, destroyed your tracker, and spent the day with Banksy and Ty.  Tony's idea. The two of them are both vouching for your whereabouts."

Steve was slowly starting to feel the effects of the coffee.  It had helped.

"They're... vouching for me?" Steve repeated. "I don't deserve these people," he shook his head. "I really don't. They're too good to me."

"Send them an Edible Arrangement.  So where do you want to go?" repeated Natasha.

Steve was grateful she didn't assume he wanted to go back to Tony, immediately.

"...I need to go to a few stores," Steve said. "Get me within a few miles of the hotel and I'll sort it out myself."

"Sure," said Natasha.  She didn't ask any other questions; she took him back to New York, and then pulled a stack of bills out of her pocket.  "...you left your wallet in the car you stole. I assume on purpose. Here's some money. ...get back to the hotel soon, okay, Steve?  Your friends are worried about you. And the media... well, we're trying to keep this little security breach under wraps. They're already going crazy over the collar thing."

Natasha paused, staring out the window of the jet, and added, "Next time, call me or Clint to talk to you, Steve.  You can't keep doing this. ...seriously." Her tone was more concerned than scolding.

She let him off twenty minutes away from the hotel, close to a subway station so he could go where he wanted.  She knew Steve had a new tracker, but she hadn't told Tony or any of his friends; Steve seemed like he needed a few more hours of privacy.  Natasha being Natasha, she didn't ask why.

"Thanks, Nat," Steve breathed, tucking the money away into his jacket. He smiled a little sadly. "I know I can.  I just-- I just panicked. I made a split-second decision. But I got Bucky help. I kept Tony safe. That was the most important thing.  I just... I guess I just got angry at Tony too. I keep doing that."

Natasha sighed. "I think Tony sometimes over estimates your self-esteem. I don't think that's a bad thing, necessarily.  He just doesn't understand why you don't see yourself like he sees you."

Steve frowned a little. That was a good way of looking at it. He leaned over and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you Nat. I don't deserve you, really."

She hit his arm. "Get out of my bird, you sap. And don't take too long, either.  He's worried about you, Steve."

"I know," said Steve.  He ducked as he got out of the chopper, the roar of the rotor drowning out any more words between him and Natasha.  He covered his eyes as she lifted the helicopter back into the air, the blades churning up debris in the empty lot he was standing in.  He stood there in the parking lot she'd dropped him off in, watching the speck of her aircraft disappear into the sky, leaving him alone.  It was only after the helicopter had disappeared over the horizon that Steve turned and loped off.  He had errands to run, and an Alpha to return to.


	7. The Fight

Two hours after Steve's first text, Pepper got another one from Steve's 'new' number. She looked up quickly; Aria and Happy were one the other side of the room sipping on coffee. "Steve just texted. He wants to come see Tony, without an audience. He's asked us to give them space. He'll be here in twenty."

"...should we be worried about them?" asked Happy, with genuine concern.

"Either they'll work it out or they won't," said Pepper, rising and tucking her phone away.  "I'm going to go shake Tony awake. Let's go... if they need space, we have no business being here.  I'll leave Marco and Daston outside in the hall... the rest of us can go... I don't know..."

"Get a pitcher at the local dive?" suggested Happy.

Pepper smiled, her nose crinkling.  "...that actually sounds... fun."

She strode into Tony's room.  It was dark. Or at least, dim.  Things were never truly dark with Tony; he was wearing a wifebeater and his arc reactor was more than half-uncovered, lighting up the room with a fierce shade of blue.

"Tony.  Steve says he'll be here in twenty minutes."

"Yay," said Tony, voice flat.

"Are you sober?"

"No."

"Give me the bottle."

Tony sat up and handed Pepper a mostly-empty bottle.

"Are you going to be nice to him?"

"Yeah," said Tony, a hint of misery in his voice.  "...it's my fault he went to Bucky. I'm a lousy Alpha."

Pepper sighed and reached out to brush his hair off his forehead.  "Both of you are hot messes. But you love each other. ...try to get cleaned up, okay?  Twenty minutes."

"Okay," said Tony blearily, getting out of bed.  He slouched toward the bathroom, at least to brush his teeth and put his contacts in.

Pepper observed him for a moment.  He seemed... okay. She took the bottle with her, though, just in case.

"Alright.  He's up, at least.  Let's go," said Pepper.

Happy shot her a grin.  "Are you pre-gaming already?"

Pepper looked down at the bottle in her hand and smiled.  "...come on," she repeated, gesturing for Aria. "We'll talk to the boys in the morning.  I think, tonight, we earned a break."

* * *

Steve was actually nervous as he stepped into the elevator. He was holding a fairly large paper bag. 

A young woman got into it on the way up and clearly recognized him, her eyes widening. " _You're_ Steve Rogers," she stated, the lift doors flicking shut behind her.

Steve's eyes met hers. "That's right."

"My little brother left his asshole boyfriend because of you," she said and clicked the button for the floor she wanted. "I suppose I should say thank you."

Steve inclined his head. "I'm sure he did it on his own merit."

"Sure," she hummed and glanced up to meet Steve's gaze. "But I think that the example you set is an important one." There was something she was holding back - probably about collars. Steve fought back a frown.

Then she got out at the next floor. Steve let out a ragged breath.

He got out on their floor and then stepped into their suite, one of the guards letting him in with a nod. Tony wasn't in the living area. Steve's heart was beating incredibly fast. Fuck. He really was nervous. He set his bag down on the sofa and then shrugged his jacket off and folded it over his arm.

Steve heard a door click somewhere. "...Tony?"

"...hi," said Tony.

He'd heard Steve come in.  He was a little tipsy, but sobering up.  It was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd manage to get his hair under control-- sort of-- and thrown on a clean pair of jeans and t-shirt that covered the reactor.  The glowing, circular outline was still obvious beneath the dark cloth, however.

Tony stood uncomfortably in the doorway, not sure what else he was supposed to say.  Was he supposed to ask Steve if he had a nice time with his other Alpha? Just accept his new cuckold-hood, accept that he couldn't control his omega and Steve was going to do whatever he wanted, and in the meantime, Tony wasn't even allowed to check out pretty women?

"...was worried you wouldn't come back," said Tony, with forced casualness.

Steve's breath hitched a little when he saw him. It was unsettling to see Tony look...unsure of himself. He was supposed to be the confident one. Steve swallowed, his gaze flitting to the floor nervously. He rubbed his hands together. "I... I was upset and I walked out and I shouldn't have and I'm sorry. But I got him to Fury. He'll be safe with them, they're-- they're putting him into cryo." Steve couldn't hide how his voice broke a little. "Nothing happened. He hugged me. That was it." He didn't add that Tony would have probably felt it if Steve had had sex with Bucky. He knew what it felt like when your mate slept with someone else- it was the strangest feeling in the world.

"I... I got you something," Steve whispered. "I wanted to apologise. I... I should have called you, to let you know what was happening. But I didn't because I was annoyed and I shouldn't have been punishing you for that."

Tony stared curiously at the bag on the table.  He couldn't think of anything Steve could possibly get him.  He had a vivid mental image of a t-shirt with a phrase like _My omega got double-bonded and all I got was this lousy t-shirt._

"Yeah... well... s'ok," said Tony.  It wasn't okay but he felt so completely out of his element right now.  If a crush on Pepper (a crush Steve already knew about!) could set him off, then anything could, really.  Steve was... unstable. And Tony didn't want to say the wrong thing and have Steve running off to Bucky again.  The mere thought of the other Alpha chilled Tony to the bone. Steve had run off with him. A day after trying to mate (and failing), a day after promising him he wouldn't leave, Steve had left.  He'd gone to Bucky.

"...what is it?" asked Tony, nodding toward the bag without moving.  He felt wary but also tired. Too tired to really be angry or anything.  Not for the first time, he wished he had been in that car with his parents.  Tony had never told anyone, but he'd thought about it often. Tony loved himself for practical reasons: he was hot, smart, funny, rich, innovative... he was awesome.  But he also hated himself. Because ever since Afghanistan he'd had to come to terms with the fact that he was a mass murderer. And ever since bonding with Steve, he'd had to come to terms all over again with the fact that he was a weak Alpha.

Well, whatever.  Things were how they were.  No use moping over it. Tony was just going to have to come to terms with it and power through.  Bonds were permanent, after all. Sort of. Tony could distance them, if he wanted. He'd never loved anyone quite like he liked Steve, but if Steve told him to, he would.  Right now, he wasn't really sure _what_ Steve was doing, so he was just being neutral until he gleaned more information.

Was he allowed to talk about Bucky?  Steve had reassured him nothing had happened.  Tony wasn't even sure if he could believe him. But whatever.  Bucky was in cryo now, supposedly.

Steve watched Tony's face intently. His gut twisted. He stepped forward but then hesitated before he stayed where he was. He swallowed and wrung his hands together awkwardly again. "You don't believe me, do you? Jesus, Tony.  I _told_ you I wasn't leaving you. I know that _physically_ I did," Steve grimaced a little. "But I was dealing with a... a situation. You were arguing with Pepper. The fact that you were upset about her dating Happy wasn't so much what upset me; it was the more the fact that you thought that was the time to argue about it. When a trained assassin and super-soldier was on his way to kill you."

Steve took a moment to compose himself.  Tony was unusually silent.

"But I got him somewhere safe. SHIELD couldn't help. Natasha said she had nowhere. I _had_ to do something, and I did."

He thought about Bucky's fingers on the back of his neck and his chest constricted.

"I know I need to stop going off and doing shit on my own. I'm sorry. It's just hard--" Steve let out a withered sigh. He walked over to the bag. "I just-- I got you-- well, sort of for you-- listen, I don't know why I freaked out yesterday. But I want to go that stupid conference. Everyone knows we went collar shopping. We've got to set an example now." Steve moved over to the bag. He pulled out a thin black box. "Cost me five dollars each. Boxes are tacky as hell. And... I got you flowers too. Figured a girlfriend probably never got you flowers before."

Tony stared at him, lost.  Flowers? ...Steve got him flowers?

"You got me flowers," he repeated, dumbfounded.  Steve was correct. Tony had never received flowers before, unless you counted all the fucking orchids they had gotten from mating.

He crossed the room, his movements slow and guarded.

Sure enough, Steve had gotten him roses.  Tony reached out slowly and touched the petals.  They were soft. He didn't know how to feel about this at all.

"Flowers are what you get people when you apologise, aren't they?" Steve asked softly. He'd seen it in a lot of movies and TV shows. He thought that was how it worked.

Tony looked up at Steve.  He was holding a box. Tony stared at it curiously.  His heart hurt, from anxious and love and probably three other emotions Tony didn't have a name for.

Tony sat down on the edge of couch, clearly ready to get up quickly if he needed to.

"So... so you went to spend the day with your other mate... and you told me to leave me alone... I think... right?  I... I tried to find you, with the bond, but you pushed me away. But... but now you got me flowers. And... that." Tony nodded toward the box.  He felt suspicious of the contents.

There was no bite in his words.  Tony's brain was running at full capacity to try to figure things out.  This wasn't rocket science, and that was the problem. Tony _understood_ rocket science.  He did not understand his omega.  He thought he had, but clearly he didn't.  He was bonded to a fucking stranger whose actions were unpredictable and capricious.

Steve rolled his eyes. "You make it sound like I took him on a picnic, Tony. I drove for over ten hours straight. I took him to a safe house, and then Fury took him away. Yes, I told you to back off on our bond.  I was mad, okay? And stressed. Very stressed. Surprisingly enough, being in a car with him was very taxing."  Steve paused.  He didn't want to be sarcastic.  That wouldn't help things.  Gentler, he said, "I think the problem is... that we don't talk about it enough. I'm scared of talking about Bucky because I don't want to upset you. But I think instead it just made you anxious about how _I_ feel instead, which was never my intention."

"...may I... see it?" asked Tony slowly, eyes on the box, one hand still stroking the rose petals.  He didn't want to touch the box. He just wanted Steve to show him. Five bucks? Did he mean five thousand or something?

Steve moved to hesitantly place the box in Tony's hand, their fingers brushing briefly. There was identical box still in the bag. "I thought velvet looked nice. Soft. Not cold. And not made of metal." That had honestly been Steve's main priority. He hated the cold in every shape or form.

"...you... bought us collars," said Tony. holding the box without opening it.  He stared into the middle distance for a moment. "...so you still want to go to that AU conference.  ...okay. Sounds good."

"I thought that was...I thought you were okay with it," Steve filled in, suddenly feeling awkward. He didn't know how Tony felt. Would he forgive him, did he think he could do? He reached out to Tony when he turned around but then quickly pulled his hand back, feeling nervous.

Tony leaned forward to set the box on the table, then rose.  "Well... I'm going to bed now. G'night, Steve."

"Bed?" echoed Steve, sounding lost.

Tony was already walking away.

...that hadn't been so bad, figured Tony.  Steve was back and he seemed safe. He seemed stable, sort of.  That was the most important thing, right? Yeah, Tony reassured himself.  Ultimately, his number one goal was Steve's safety. And Steve was safe. So it was okay.

Tony padded back to the bedroom, feeling thoroughly exhausted from their conversation, even though it had been short and sweet.  He went to the bar, but all the good stuff was long gone. There was a bottle of red left, a Malbec. Tony grabbed that and flopped onto the bed with the bottle and a corkscrew, hoping if he drank it fast enough he might be able to escape back into unconsciousness.

And to think... he had thought this March would be easy.  Haaaa.

Steve leaned in the door. _He's drinking because of me,_ he thought and guilt tugged at his gut. He felt scared all of a sudden, like he was teetering on a knife edge. Maybe this was it. Maybe he'd pushed Tony too far and now he didn't want to deal with Steve...crazy, selfish, unpredictable Steve.

"Should I...should I sleep on the couch?" Steve called hesitantly.

"You can sleep where ever you want," said Tony.  Why was Steve asking him permission now? About sleeping, of all things?  He hadn't asked permission when he'd disappeared for twenty-four hours to go hang out with his other Alpha.

Tony up-ended the bottle of wine, settling down against the pillows.  In the last year, Tony's usual spread-eagle sleeping habits had altered slightly; he automatically lay on the left side of the bed, with Steve on his right.  The night before, he'd slept like that, with half the bed neatly made and empty, a shrine to Steve. Pepper had glanced in on him and that in that single moment she had seen the bond more clearly than she had at any other point in the last year.  Tony was curled up on his half of the bed, the other half barren, and one of Tony's hands was stretched out for Steve's nonexistent form.

Tony had automatically taken his half of the bed, leaving the other half open for Steve if he wanted it.  But maybe Steve wanted to sleep on the couch. Maybe he didn't want to sleep with Tony anymore, because Tony wasn't as good an Alpha as Bucky and couldn't even mate him properly.  Tony didn't know and so he didn't want to push Steve. He didn't pat the bed invitingly or make any motion for Steve to join him, not wanting to be pushy. Every time he asked anything of Steve, it backfired.  Steve was clearly going to do whatever Steve wanted anyway, so Tony saw no point in directing him. He wasn't dominant enough.

Steve shifted his weight uncomfortably.  Wherever he wanted?  What did that even mean?  That certainly wasn't an invitation. Steve stepped into the bedroom and then hesitated again. He couldn't just get into bed and pretend everything was okay; he wouldn't be able to sleep. He swallowed nervously and then moved to kneel down on Tony's side of the bed, hoping he wouldn't reject him.

"You're shutting off from me. Please don't do that. I came back because I wanna talk Tony. I want to make things okay. And they're not right, I can feel it," he whispered. "Please don't compare yourself to him. He thinks it's the forties. He tried to kill Fury. Please. He's living in the past but you're _here_ , okay?  And I know I went to go get him. But I don't abandon people I care about, I can't do it- no matter how fucked up in they head they are. But that doesn't mean I'm in love with him or nothing. I'm here and I'm in love with _you_ and it hurts so much that you can't feel it," Steve ducked his head down and clasped his hands tightly in his lap. He was so strong, so powerful- and yet as he was now, kneeling on the hotel carpet, he felt useless.  The serum did nothing for this type of situation.

"I can't sleep next to you and pretend we're really together when you're not even here with me."

Tony looked down.  Steve was kneeling.

Did he kneel for Bucky, too?

"You literally wanted me to leave you alone less than twenty-four.  You pushed me away.  Or at least, as much as an O really can, anyway.  You left. You told me not to try to find you.  Steve, I'm here. _I_ never left. _You_ did." Tony's voice was calm and quiet, not at all accusatory. 

"I know I left. I know I did! But I came back. I was upset.  Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't do it to hurt you. I did it to-- to just stop Bucky from getting hurt anymore.  I don't know.  I just don't want anyone to be hurt.  Except maybe myself.  Maybe I did it to hurt myself," Steve said and then pressed his lips together, not really knowing what that meant. He stared down at his hands in his lap, not knowing what to say.

Tony looked away.  "He touched your neck.  You liked it. I felt that.  Was that part of _just a hug_ or was that something else?  ...you know what, I don't care.  You're obviously gonna do whatever you want and... you know, like you said to that girl at Cartier, you do you.  Y'know? You're a big... omega role model. Nothing drives that point home better than getting an Alpha like me and just cutting him down a ton."

"I didn't kiss him. I didn't _do anything_. I know what it feels like to have to have someone cheat on you and I wouldn't do that to you. It's the worst feeling in the world. It makes you want to die, or worse," Steve said, his voice shaking.  "I didn't want to- what happened with Bucky had nothing to do with you. I don't care if everyone in the whole goddamn world thinks I'm a good omega - what matters to me if _you_ do."

In a way, Tony thought, it was a fitting penance.  He'd been such a dick in the past to omegas and women.  Not intentionally, but...

Yeah, whatever.  He could handle it, he guessed.  The things the media was saying about him, and had been saying since January.  The things his father had sometimes said to him, when he was drunk.

"You can sleep in the bed, Steve."  His voice was cold and without emotion

"I'm not- I'm not sleeping in the bed if it feels like you don't want me in there."

Tony looked down at Steve again.  Was Steve a "good omega?" ...no. No, not really.  Not lately. Maybe he was to Bucky. But not to Tony.  Not by the strict definition of "good" being "obedient," anyway.

Tony decided to ignore that and focus on Steve's last statement.  "Sure. I want you in the bed. But you don't have to, okay? Steve, I'm always gonna want you.  The one time I thought I didn't, in January... that was a mistake. I don't know what it's like for you.  But for me, your scent, it... kind of makes me crazy, you know? I'll always want you in the bed."

Tony threw back the bottle again.  Less than a third to go and he was feeling a bit better.

"I wish you'd lay off with your jealousy problems, though.  Sorry I like Pepper. Sorry I flirt at parties. Neither of those are secrets.  And neither of those is gonna change. Just deal with it, Steve. I always come home to you.  I haven't laid a finger on another person since we bonded. Seriously. Haven't touched one single boob.  But for some reason I'm supposed to be cool with you going off and just hanging out who-knows-where with your own Alpha?  If I took Pepper out like that, you'd flip! It's not fair, that's all I'm saying. Just 'cause I'm the weaker Alpha doesn't mean you gotta rub my nose in it."

"I know. I'm bad, I know. I just-- in my head Bucky always wanted women over me. And Pepper's amazing. She's so great. And I just...sometimes I don't understand how can even compete with that." She was exactly the sort of woman Bucky would bring back to the apartment: fiery, and not afraid to take charge.

"...Pepper's amazing," agreed Tony.  "...but I'm not bonded to Pepper." He didn't move.

Steve pursed his lips.  "And please, don't describe a ten hour car drive as 'hanging out'. Do you know what it's like to not pee for over ten hours? It's horrible.  And...and I don't expect you to be cool with it. The whole shit situation is massively shitty. I'm not trying to rub your nose in anything. But it _is_ my fault. I'm responsible for my actions. I don't regret making sure he didn't make it to the hotel, or getting him...into cryo. But I regret _how_ I did it. I should have called you."

Tony sank further down into the bed; he'd kept his clothes on.  "Never mind. It's my fault you went to him. I shouldn't have pushed you with the mating, or the collars, or... or noticed Pepper.  M'sorry. I'm going to bed now. Good-night." He finished off the wine and set the empty bottle on the floor by the bed, then rolled over, closing his eyes.

"...we were supposed to buy 'em together," he added grudgingly. But he knew Steve had only gotten them in the first place to make a political statement and crash Malick's conference, so he guessed he shouldn't care. 

"I know. I know you wanted to get them together but trying them out in front of other people really stressed me out Tony. I'm sorry. I wasn't very good yesterday...in a lot of ways. Sometimes I just feels like I have to be above everything, like I'm immune to stuff- and when I'm not it just comes crashing down."

Steve stood slowly. As he walked around the bed he shed off clothes until he was just in his boxers and then sat on the edge of the mattress. He hesitated, before lying down and curling the duvet over himself. He felt small.

"Maybe...maybe we could go together, get a private room or something, for...for your birthday?" he suggested softly.

Tony huffed a little after Steve lay down.  He knew Steve was trying to reconcile what had happened.  "No. It's okay, Steve. Forget it. You have every right not to like collars.  I wouldn't ever make you wear one. Now, good night." The wine was doing its thing and Tony felt pleasantly buzzed.

The ache in his heart and gut were still there, but that was okay.  Tony could ignore that.

Tomorrow, he planned to go through the itinerary Pepper had drawn up.  The next one-and-a-half weeks, Tony could just focus on work stuff. Pepper would like that and it would give him an excuse not to be in Steve's way.  Then they'd go to the Conference, Steve could do his whole omega thing, Tony could take advantage of the open bar, and then they could go home, and Tony would go back to working on the Mark VII.  Yes, everything would work out nicely. Tony just had to keep himself busy, that was all.

 "I wish you'd let him come. I wish I could have faced him.  I would rather die in an Alpha-fight for you than let you take care of me like I'm too pathetic to do it myself."

"I'm not watching you die because of mistakes I made seventy years ago," Steve disagreed, curling up under the sheets. He missed being small again, being able to hide under the sheets when he'd pissed Bucky off.

"Which bond was a mistake, Steve?" replied Tony, softly, words slurring a little.  "The bond with him? Or with me?"

A moment later he was snoring softly.

Steve knew Tony was still upset and he desperately wanted to make it better, but he didn't know how to do that. Aria had set up meetings with multiple lawyers for him to meet with over the next week for a certain project he was planning but now he had no buzz for it.

He just wanted to make things okay with Tony. Steve had been so mad at him but all of that was gone in a heart beat. He just wanted Tony to stop feeling weak. How could he do that? What he could do to make it okay? Fuck. He was so bad... bad at all of this.

Around one in the morning Steve passed out from exhaustion, his misery and guilt keeping him awake until then. Then he slept heavily. His body was dead from all the driving and his mind exhausted from all the turmoil. He needed the sleep and slept away well into the late hours of the morning, not even waking when the sun bled through the cracks in the curtains and spilled out onto the bed.

Tony woke up with a dull ache behind the eyes.  Steve was still asleep, which was unusual.

Tony climbed out of bed heavily and went to get a coffee with a few shots in it.

Aria and Pepper were in the main room of the suite.

"Good morning, ladies."

"Pants," said both simultaneously; Tony was only in boxer-briefs.

"Everything okay with you two?" asked Pepper, a hint of hope in her voice.

"Yeah, I guess," said Tony with a shrug.  As good as things would ever be, he figured.  "...he got me flowers," he added, nodding toward the roses on the table.

"...how are we feeling?"

"Ready to go behave myself at some board meetings, go over some quarterly earnings," said Tony with a forced smile.

"Well, that's what I like to hear.  Go put on pants," instructed Pepper.

Tony tiptoed back into the bedroom to get a suit.  He tied his own tie in the only knot he knew, a half-Windsor, because he didn't want Pepper touching him in case it set Steve off.

"Let's go," he said.

"What's in the box?"

"Gwyneth Paltrow's head."

"No, seriously, what's in there?  Is that the collar you two decided on?" asked Pepper, pointing to the coffee table.

"...yeah."  Tony didn't want to talk about it.  "Let's go move millions, baby. C'mon.  Business time."

Pepper got up.  She didn't like the way Tony was acting, which was... normal and responsible.  "What about Steve?"

"He's fine.  He had other stuff to do.  You know Steve, he's very independent," said Tony.  He checked his watch. "If we hurry, we can grab McDonald's breakfast.  I'm never up early enough for that. C'mon, Pep, let's go."

Pepper exchanged a look with Aria, but obediently gathered up her tablet, put it in her purse, and slung the strap over her shoulder.  "Okay..."

Aria had said nothing; she watched Tony's forced calm with a hint of a frown gracing her features.  Pepper mouthed _"I'll text you"_ as she and Tony left.

Aria texted Pepper minutes later.

_ > Total lie. They are not okay. That's the worst fake okay I've ever seen. - AT  
_

_ > I'll talk to Tony.  You try and talk to Steve. - PP  
_

Steve emerged from the bedroom about an hour later, in pants (thankfully) and a hoodie. He went to get coffee and then sat on the sofa, legs crossed and cup in his lap. He was struggling to even meet Aria's gaze though she didn't look mad at him. Just worried.

"How's things with Brennan going?" she asked abruptly and Steve looked confused at the question.

"What?"

"You know--" Aria took a drag from her cigarette. They could smoke in the suite, but not in the hallways. She leaned back in her seat. "With therapy."

Steve paused to think about it. "Pretty useless. Actually."

"Do you ever think about that like... a year ago, you were in a war still?"

Steve blinked. Where the hell was all this coming from?

"I think maybe you have PTSD. Okay, so I know you shouldn't Google stuff-- according to WebMD, you apparently have five types of cancer--" She shrugged. "Whatever. But all this reckless self-destructive shit, self-esteem, self-sabotage. It's _super normal_ for soldiers who've just come back from war."

"Please, Aria, don't try to justify my actions--" began Steve wearily.

"I'm not," she assured him quickly. "I'm just trying to explain them and figure out how we prevent this self-destructive cycle shit in the future... it's worth thinking about. How are things, anyway?"

"I've upset Tony. It's like there's a wall up. He keeps saying it's okay but I don't know how to make it okay and it's killing me.  He's keeping the bond distanced.  Not like how he did in January but... distant from how it normally is."

"He felt out of control, didn't he? Make him feel in control," Aria said, taking another long drag.

Steve frowned a little. "How?"

Aria made a jerking off motion with her hand and shrugged.  Steve blushed and looked down, not sure how to respond to such a brash suggestion.  Aria took the opportunity to text Pepper with one hand.

_ > Maybe they should just have angry sex or something. I don't know.  Boys are idiots.- AT  
_

_ > You mean they haven't already?  Normally that's Tony go-to method for resolving relationship problems.  Just ask Beth. - PP  
_

Pepper looked up from her phone.  They were on a fifteen-minute break; Tony was sitting at the conference room table, reviewing a pack going over their stock trends.  He'd been acting completely normal and responsible and work-oriented all day. It was horrifying.

"You know, Tony, we've gotten a lot done today.  You can skip the last meeting if you want."

"Naw, they like seeing me here.  The company's got my name. I'm kind of the mascot," said Tony breezily.

"Are you avoiding going home?"

"What?  _No._  I'm just taking work seriously."

"...you're Tony Stark.  You don't take anything seriously.  Especially not work. Listen, go home and go out to dinner with Steve.  You've earned it."

"No, really, Pepper, I don't mind all these boring meetings.  It's good for me to check in once and a while, make sure you're not slacking off.  All these earnings look great."

Pepper frowned.  "Tony. I'm serious.  Go back to the hotel and invite Steve on a date.  It'll be good for the two of you." Pepper leaned over the table and placed a hand on Tony's arm.  Tony looked down at her pale skin, her slender fingers. "Tony. Both of you have some pretty dark, heavy histories.  It's okay to have problems. It's _not_ okay to avoid them.  ...go home to your omega."

Tony sighed and closed the binder he had been making notes in.  "I'm better at business than relationships."

Pepper smiled a little.  "...no argument here."

Tony got up, smoothing down his tie.  "Okay, fine. See you tomorrow, Pep." Tony figured that the hotel staff had restocked the minibar by now; he could go home and get sloshed and go back to bed.

_ > Heads up, Tony's coming home.  What has Steve been up to all day? - PP  
_

Pepper was inclined to agree with Aria at the moment: boys were idiots.  Neither Tony nor Steve seemed capable of dealing with any sort of emotional turmoil.  But both of them had their demons.

_ > Sulking. Feeling bad. I moved all his meetings tomorrow. The lawyers want to see inspirational Steve, not sulk-mode Steve. - AT  
_

_ > And no. Apparently they haven't had any angry make-up sex. Apparently (in Steve's words) it's been 'pretty low-key'. I'm dying. He can't talk about sex without turning bright red. It's hilarious. Not this situation is funny but still. - AT _

"Tony's on his way home," Aria announced, and Steve sat up quickly from his spot on the sofa. They'd had what Aria called a 'chill' day, eating Chinese takeaway (the hotel staff had looked horrified when they'd had to bring it upstairs).   Aria had made him binge watch a lot _Friends_. He was slowly getting into it.

"Oh my God. I look awful. I should shower."

"Steve, honey, you never look awful," Aria assured him and stood, gathering all the take away boxes to throw into the bin. "Now I hope you use tonight to work out some of your _feelings_ , okay? Because you guys are terrible at talking about stuff--"

"Is this the sex thing again?" Steve looked like he wanted the floor to eat him alive.  Aria bit back a smile.

"You said it pal. Not me."

Steve grumbled something under his breath.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing!"

"I'll come by early tomorrow morning. Shower for nine, and smart clothes!" she shouted and then she was heading out.

Aria was finishing off another cigarette by the hotel entrance when she saw Tony walking in, his sunglasses hiding all discernible emotion.

"You guys need to work on all that pent-up frustration. You're shit at talking. Both of you are," she told him matter-of-factly and then pulled away, as if she'd been waiting just to say that. Perhaps she had.

"Meddling kid," mumbled Tony under his breath.  He didn't want to talk to Steve. He wanted to get drunk and black out watching _Top Gear_.

He let himself into the hotel suite with a nod to the bodyguards hanging out outside in the hallway, and stepped in.  He didn't immediately see Steve, and relief flooded him, following by guilt that he would be relieved not to see his mate.

Tony stalked across the room, loosening his tie, and checked the minibar.  Sure enough, restocked.

Tony cracked open a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass, neat.  He took a few grateful sips. The room had a faint scent of Chinese food, and Tony felt a stab of envy.  He would have loved to lounged around all day eating Chinese food and reading old copies of _Wired_ magazine.  Hanging out with Pepper and sitting through meetings had been terminally boring.  But safe. It had been safe.

Tony topped off his drink and turned around.  Steve was standing there in the doorway; Tony nearly had a heart attack.

"Hi," he said.  Steve was wearing one of the hotel's robes.  He looked pretty good. Smelled good, too.

Tony took a sip of his drink, eyes still training on Steve over the lip of the glass.

Steve had showered. Or rather, panic showered (because he really was gross). After all, he hadn't showered since his long car journey the day before. He was also conscious of the fact that he could potentially smell of Bucky. In the shower his mind wandered too; he thought about how Bucky ignored half the stuff he said, touched him without asking permission... his mind was stuck in the forties and he acted like it.

The shampoo smelt of strawberries and the shower gel of peaches. The smells were sweet. He liked them.

Then he'd brushed his teeth (his breath had been awful) and stepped out to find Tony already drinking. Steve wasn't surprised. Board meetings often made him drink (he was assured they were very boring). Steve was just the icing on the cake at this point, he guessed.  Tony's alcoholism rarely needed much fuel to get going.

"Hey. Sorry I startled you," Steve said. He was glad he'd put the robe on. It might have been a bit much to walk out naked.

Least Tony could look at him right now. That was a bonus. Last night they'd both struggled with any eye contact of any kind.

"How... how was your day?"

"...good," said Tony.  "...productive," he added, because he felt like Steve was expecting more.

He crossed the room to sit on the couch and get the remote.  He had to push aside the vase of roses and the small black box.

Was this, he wondered, what married life was like?  Before the story had broken in January about Steve's other Alpha, their lives had been charmed.  It had been fun, living with Steve, the two of them seeped in the luxury of Tony's life, best friends and mates, cuddling, fucking, making love, doing nearly everything together.

Now it was like they were strangers.  Tony had gone to work, come home, exchanged nothings.  Now he could watch TV and drink whiskey and the two of them would go sleep in the same bed without touching.

Tony settled down and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels idly.  Steve was still hovering. Tony didn't know what he wanted. He stared at the TV screen, trying to think of something to say.

"...Aria was smoking in here.  You know I don't like the smell of cigarettes."

"I opened a window," Steve said, but that clearly hadn't done the trick.

A bad feeling panged in his chest as Tony sat down and watched TV, his back turned to him. There had been a moment for a second - a moment when potentially he thought they might talk, connect in some way but then it was gone, over, the opportunity lost.

Steve pulled back into the bedroom, the tension unbearable.

Tony felt relieved when Steve disappeared again.  He sipped his whiskey happily, finding a rerun of _Breaking Bad_ on HBO, and kicked off his shoes to enjoy it.  He could almost, _almost_ pretend he was just a regular beta businessman, home from a long day at the office.  That everything was normal and okay. The cigarette smell helped cover up Steve's scent, which was nice.  He could almost ignore the upset radiating from their bond.  Steve's upset.

Steve grabbed his phone off the side and went to sit on the bed. He leaned his head in his hand, eyes teary with frustration. "Fuck," he whispered, mostly to himself.

He didn't know who to text. But Natasha had told him to so... he texted Clint. Because this partly an omega thing.

_ > He's just come home and starting drinking and watching tv. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don't even think he wants to look at me.- SR  
_

_ > ...you're his omega, Steve.  Go be an omega. The problem is a lack of confidence.  He doesn't feel confident in his claim. Don't let him not look at you.  Go hover, be obsequious. Whenever Nat gets really moody, it's because she's feeling insecure.  Fortunately, Alphas are very easy to manipulate. They just need someone to stroke their ego sometimes, make them feel like they're in charge.  It's an Alpha thing. - CB _

Had kneeling for him and buying collars not been enough of an ego boost? Steve frowned. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't good at this. He wasn't sexy (appearance not included).  Or rather he was good at _being_ sexy. Steve was not a naturally seductive or smooth person; he was clumsy and awkward. If he wasn't on the battlefield then he didn't know where he was going. He honestly couldn't really imagine what Clint did to 'stroke Natasha's ego' but he didn't think he really wanted to know either.

Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face. He hated nerves. They sucked.

He dropped his phone on the bed and stood, hovering by the bedside as he steeled himself.

Steve was so screwed, probably not in a good way, but he had to try; he had to say _something_.

So he walked out. He stood between Tony and he TV. "You said you wanted me. You sat by that bed and said you still wanted me so if you do them-- then fucking take me, Tony. Because I'm sick of you treating me like I'm made of glass. I wanna see the worst of you. I want you to give it to me."

Steve dropped to his knees like some invisible hand had pushed him down. His voice trembled with a strange kind of reverence. "I want to be good for you. I want to give you what you want. All of it. And then I want you to come back for more."

He ducked his head down, the gesture totally submissive. "I want you to _ruin_ me. Please."

Tony blinked when Steve appeared between him and the TV.  He stared, mute, as Steve begged him to fuck him him, and then knelt.  Tony's mouth felt dry and he felt a raging storm of conflicting emotions.

Part of him, the part that was an Alpha and a man and a human, was aroused.  Wanted to lunge at Steve and bang him senseless right there on the floor.

But that wasn't really what Steve wanted, was it?  He cringed every time Tony touched his neck. Tony hadn't realized he was treated Steve so delicately, but he was only doing it because he didn't want to hurt him.  Did that make him a bad Alpha, to not be selfish? To worry about Steve's well-being?

The rational part of him was slightly scared by this.  Steve wasn't normally _this_ submissive.  What the hell had gotten into him?

And then a ghost of anxiety whispered the answer in Tony's ear: Bucky.  Bucky had gotten into him. Steve had spent a day with a _real_ Alpha, and now he was behaving.

"...you don't have to do that, Steve," said Tony awkwardly.  Rarely had he turned down sex, but he didn't know how he was supposed go ravage Steve when Steve's body had made it clear he didn't want him.  The gland, the way the omega-serum tasted, the mark, the way Tony's knot had hurt Steve two nights before... "Come on, get up. You're Captain America, you're an omega civil rights leader, you shouldn't kneel for anyone."  Tony scooted over a little, to make room for Steve on the couch and also so he could see the TV screen, which Steve was currently blocking. He patted the seat he had made available, an invitation for Steve to sit on the couch.

"Oh, for _fuck's_ sake Tony. I'm so goddamn sexually frustrated you're going to kill me. Jesus Christ," Steve said and he actually sounded annoyed. But not angry - the kind of annoyed he'd get when Tony accidentally poured coffee all over himself: fond but exasperated.  "I'm not Captain America right now. I’m Steve goddamn Rogers." Steve let out a frustrated sound. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I like it? Maybe I like being submissive? No, I can't say it out there because out there I'm the captain and I'm a symbol.  But here I'm not. Here we're supposed to be honest with each other. I don't want to give you what you want just to make _you_ feel better, Tony."

Steve's voice became a touch softer. "Do you seriously not get that I _want_ it?"

Tony gritted his teeth a little.  "Yeah. I got it. I'm a shitty Alpha, okay?  We both pretend like dominance doesn't matter, but it does.  You're Steve fuckin' Rogers. You're bigger than me, taller, stronger, faster.  I completely failed at mating you. We went collar shopping and you had a panic attack.  Obviously, I'm a shit Alpha who can't provide the kind of dominance you need to feel satisfied, which is why you went off with Bucky, isn't it?  Who is not only more dominant than me, but also, let's face it, the only Alpha that can really and truly be dominant over you and pin you down and do what you need done.  I say, gee, Steve, I sure do miss women, and you lose it! But then you get needy enough and you go out to find yourself a good Alpha. Fuckin' hypocite."

Steve looked like he was about to cry. In fact, he was. His mind drifted back to Bucky trying to pin him down in the cage and to that heavy weight of the metal arm pressing down against his neck, threatening to cut off his breathing. Even if Tony was never in the picture Steve didn't know if you could have sex with someone after something like that. How could you not think of that every time they touched you?

"I went off with Bucky because he was on his way to _kill you_ ," he said, his voice shaking with vehemence. "It had nothing to do with how dominant you are.  I'm an omega, Tony.  Dominance doesn't matter to me one bit.  It was all do with the fact that if you two were in the same room then--" Then Steve would have had to have fought Bucky. And he wasn't even sure he could win that fight. "Pin me down? Are you serious? Is that funny to you? Do you know what he tried to do?  I was exhausted... I hadn't slept or eaten in days. I thought I was alone. But when he tried to 'pin me down' I fought him. I fought him with _everything_ I had.  Dominance had nothing to do with it.  I didn't care that he was my old mate or that he was dominant or any of that.  I _fought_ him."

Steve was still kneeling, head down, but his voice was firm.

Tony caught himself, realizing that the ghost of what had happened to Steve had been present with them since Steve had returned.  And even if they hadn't been talking about it, it have been hovering over them, influencing their relationship all along.

"...I'm sorry.  I'm sorry; it's not your fault.  I didn't protect you.  I'm sorry." It was his childhood all over again. Apologizing for not being a good enough Alpha.

Tony reached up to rub the back of his neck.  It was prickling. He could feel the scar there.  Honestly, the idea of Tony being bonded to any omega, let alone one as desirable as Steve, was laughable.  Tony was barely a real Alpha. Real Alphas fought for their omegas, but everyone had pleasantly agreed Bucky would murder him, not realizing how much it pained him to hear over and over that he was the loser, that his claim to Steve was only artificial, that he couldn't be expected to protect his own omega.  But of course. Steve knew all his dirty secrets, Pepper probably did too. Steve knew what these little scars meant, what each one represented: Tony's failure as an Alpha, his being used as an omega. He'd never counted them, feeling like this act of protest somehow made it better. But it didn't. Once was enough to ruin him, to prove his Alpha-hood was nothing more than a genetic fluke and that he wasn't the slightest bit dominant, that he couldn't even protect himself, let alone an omega.

Tony looked down and considering his drink, then took a sip.

"Maybe I was a bad choice.  You... you let me bond you. Maybe you shouldn't have.  I'm not a good Alpha. Not a very strong one, you know? I'm sorry.  If you want I can distance our bond." Steve looked like he wanted to protest.  "You _say_ you want it, Steve, and maybe you do, but-- but I don't think you want it from _me_.  When I tried mating you, your body, it-- the gland-- and when we went to try on collars you-- you freaked out.  I don't feel like I'm doing this right. Maybe if your original mate-- if _Bucky_ collared you, you'd be into it.  But we both know that you don't want it from me, and I don't want to hurt you.  Because I really care about you. Really love you. And even if I'm a shitty Alpha who can't stand up for you, or fight for you, or anything like that... I can at least say I won't ever hurt you.  That's... something. Literally the least I can do. But it's something."

Steve's eyes flicked up to his face, red rimmed and glazed over. "The real problem is, Tony, you don't love me as much as you hate yourself. Because my opinion, and how I think or feel, will never speak louder to you than your own anxieties."

Tony regarded Steve thoughtfully.  Steve's words, about not loving him as much as he hated himself, had rung true, much louder than made Tony comfortable.

"You're right," he said grudgingly.  He leaned forward to take Steve's face in his hands.  "You have no idea what it sounds like, do you? Everyone saying, over and over, how Bucky would kill me?  Does it occur to you that I'd rather die fighting for my omega than let everyone stand up for me like I'm a baby bird or something?"

"Does it occur that I don't want you to die because of me to prove a point? If you'd had the suit with you, it would be different," Steve conceded. "But what if he had _actually_ killed you? Yeah, okay, your Alpha pride is intact. I still have to go bury you, then, knowing it was _my_ fault you ended up in the ground."  Steve's voice cracked and a few angry tears slid over his face.  Tears that were more from frustration than actual sadness.

Tony leaned forward and ran his thumbs under Steve's eyes, which were watery, and then leaned back, as if embarrassed to have been caught being soft, and instead pulled his tie off and began to unbutton his shirt.

"My problem, Steve, is that you keep going back and forth.  The line between Cap and Steve is blurred. Sometimes, you act like this, like you want to be submissive and treated like an omega... and then other times, like yesterday, when we were looking at collars, you act like I'm oppressing the fuck out of you.  And I dunno how to reconcile that." He reached behind his back to tug his shirt off and toss it aside.

When Tony wiped away his tears Steve's heart ached in his chest.

"It's wasn't _you_ oppressing me in there. I wasn't being oppressed. It wasn't that dramatic. I just felt...overwhelmed. I couldn't stop thinking about what those women must have thought of me. And I _hated_ the feeling of something metal against my neck. I just _hated_ it, Tony. And I want to be submissive for you, but in private- not in a store.  I just-- I have these insecurities about people seeing me as-- I just hated all the collars, okay?"

The brief image of Johann Schmidt being beheaded flashed behind his eyes. It must have felt cold, Steve realized numbly, just before his shield cut through flesh.

"Oh, you wanna talk about insecurities?  I'm not allowed to look at women, I'm not allowed to put my arm around them, talk to them, nothing.  You've got jealousy issues, Steve. I've never been unfaithful to you, but I _like to flirt._  Get over it.  You wanna talk about anxieties?  Fine. You wanna be a good omega? Fine.  Count 'em. Count these fucking scars, look me in the eye, tell me what they represent, how I got them, why they're there... and then tell me you actually want me, as an Alpha.  Because right now, all I'm getting is that you want someone less broken, more dominant. Maybe you're confusing me with my dad, I don't know." Tony stared down at Steve, expression steely.

Steve's words about not loving him enough were ridiculous.  Tony wasn't the one who had left, not this time. Steve had been the one to demand to be left alone, who hadn't called, who had been out doing who-knows-what with his other Alpha.

"Do _not_ bring up Howie right now. I swear to God. If I'd wanted him I would have had him. But I didn't. I chose you, and I knew how dominant you were when I did. I didn't even _think_ about it at the time because I didn't give a shit. I liked _you_ , as a person; it's not always about status, Tony.  Especially not for us omegas.  And I know what your scars are from. And if you think that makes  you any less of an Alpha then you're crazy, because you killed them all; you became who are you now. You took all that hurt and instead of it letting it crush you, you let it make you stronger and the fact that you can't see that is _infuriating_. All the Alphas you think are more dominant than you, I assure you nearly all of them couldn't push through what you did Tony. I've met dozens of POWs in my life time. I've never met anyone whose carried on living like you do. I don't love despite all these scars you have; I love you _with_ them because they're part of who you are."

Tony leaned forward, elbows on his knees, shirt tossed over the back of the couch, face still expressionless.

Tony stared at Steve.  He was still kneeling.

Slowly, he sat up and clapped sarcastically.

"Wow, a Cap speech!  Couldn't have seen _that_ coming!  ...and yet, you didn't actually respond, did you?  I'm still not allowed to flirt? And you still can't actually look me in the eye over these scars, can you?  So what if you have to bury me... Steve, Alpha pride is _everything_ to us.  You don't get it.  You're not an Alpha.  When you walk into a room, you size everyone up, you check out everyone's dominance standing without even thinking about it.  And when you're like me, it's... it's hard, it's rough. Now I've got the best omega in the world and he's out of control and he's bonded to another, more dominant Alpha... you think people aren't talking?  You think people aren't interpreting that, judging me...? You have any idea how hard I worked to keep these scars secret so no one would realize what a failure I am as an Alpha? God, I bet Dad's spinning in his grave with how I turned out... I would trade all of my money, all of it, just to have the kind of standing Bucky does."

Tony had never asked but he wondered, suddenly, if omegas could interpret status standing as easily as Alphas.  If it was as powerful, as obvious to them. If it had the same impact.  Steve kept saying how he didn't care or didn't notice.  Was that true?  Did omegas not sense that the way Alphas did?

Steve practically flinched when Tony started clapping... but... but he'd meant what he'd said. Didn't Tony get that? Had Steve not sounded sincere enough?

"I meant it! I meant what I said, it's wasn't a _speech_. It wasn't--"

With every word Tony said Steve seemed to get increasingly upset and curl in on himself, looking small in a way that should surely be impossible. His hands were fisted in his dressing gown, he was in danger of tearing the fabric. He felt like he was teetering on a knife edge again but he wasn't even sure what was _right_ anymore.

" _Everything_ to you?" he echoed hollowly, his blue gaze tentatively flicking up. Steve didn't understand. He was from the forties and when he met Alphas he didn't start sizing them up. It just...it wasn't how it was done. "Okay. Yes. I have jealously issues, but there's no prizes for guessing why, is there?" Steve seemed to be going in the opposite direction to Tony. The louder the Alpha got, the quieter he did, as if it somehow compensated for it.

Tony glared at Steve again.  "Fucking count them. Count them, look me in the eye, _then_ tell me you want to wear my collar.  My collar that we were _supposed to pick out together_ , but you just wanna make a point, don't you?  You just want something you can burn afterwards, feel like the strong, independent omega you are.  Bet it's real fuckin' easy to feel independent when your Alpha is basically just a glorified beta."

Tony had just called him the 'best omega in the world' but everything else hurt too much to even register it.

Steve looked up, his breath hitching a little. His eyes were still rimmed red. This was, he thought strangely, probably the most 'dominant' he'd ever seen Tony. He was standing over him and angry looking (and shirtless) and telling Steve to 'fucking count them'.  A weird part of him felt a need to press his forehead to the floor by Tony's feet but he didn't even know if that was a thing omegas did or not.

Despite his instinct to keep his eyesdown he looked up and met Tony's gaze. And he held it. "It's never 'easy' to feel independent," Steve assured him. "I thought it had been about making a point.  But if it means that much to you, then it's different. If it would make things better, I would wear one.  I want to change the world, Tony.  I want to rattle cages and shake things up in this century just as much as I did in my own.  But I want to do it with you and all your scars.  And if I had to choose between being Captain America and being Steve, just Steve, just for you... I'd choose you."

Tony huffed a little and there was the slightest hint of the tension leaving his shoulders.

He reached out and put a hand on back of Steve's neck.  "...yeah. I know," he muttered. He gave Steve a pat, then sat back down on the couch, reaching for his whiskey.  He stared at the amber liquid in the glass, then over at Steve, who was still practically groveling.

"...I still wish you hadn't gone to him."

The only Alpha-fight Tony had ever been in was with Justin Hammer, at the Expo.  The two of them were extremely close in their status-standing. And even then, Tony hadn't been allowed to take care of business.  Steve had separated them. It felt like his omega was always fighting his battles for him.

Tony patted his knee.  "Come up here. Lay down in my lap for a while.  Lemme hold you."

Steve didn't flinch when Tony touched his neck. The touch was warm, grounding. When Bucky had touched it, it was the complete opposite of that. It had made Steve feel awake, alert. Now Steve almost felt sleepy, despite having done nothing all day.

"I wish I hadn't gone to Yemen," Steve whispered. That was, after all, the chain of events that had sort of started all this. Or maybe it was the simulation, which had called out to Bucky in the first place.

He perked up at the invitation, however. Carefully, Steve crawled onto the couch and then laid his head down against Tony's thigh. The TV was still on but he wasn't paying attention to it.

"I...I don't like fighting with you," he murmured. "But I'd rather you say it than keep it all bottled up inside of you."

Tony stroked Steve's hair idly.  "...I don't like to talk about things," said Tony candidly.

He wished Steve hadn't gone to Yemen, either, but it was his fault.  He had pushed his omega away. Like a fucking idiot.

He didn't want to do that again.  He was infuriated that Steve was running off with Bucky, not calling him, pushing him away mentally (as well as an omega could, anyway)... but there was nothing he could do.  Steve was out of control and that was that. Tony didn't want to lose him again. His pride was wounded, yeah. But his instinctual inclination to protect Steve meant that he couldn't stay mad at him for long.  The threat of Steve leaving was too great. He felt almost trapped, trapped in a relationship with a jealous partner who ran amok and didn't care about him and--

( _Holy shit, I know exactly how Pepper feels!)_ he thought.

"Sometimes people get into cars and don't come back," said Tony.

Steve looked up, sharply.

Shit.  He had completely forgotten: it was still March.

He had not even considered it.  That this was the season when Tony's parents had died, and when, much later in life, he'd spent a season in a cold, bleak mountain range in Afghanistan, having gotten into a car himself and proceeded to watch all of its occupants slaughtered in order to kidnap him.

Pepper had warned Steve that Tony was weird around this time of year and could be oddly clingy, afraid of either others dying or of being separated from them.  But Steve hadn't given any thought to it since the graveyard.  He'd been too concerned about Bucky.

"I know I need to stop going off and doing shit by myself," Steve whispered. "I think it's... just self-destructive.  I do it because that's how I've always done it.  But I know I need to stop."

"You don't need to do anything," said Tony tiredly.

"I came back," pointed out Steve.

"But you left," returned Tony.

'"I know I left for a day... but I came back. I'll always come back."  Steve nuzzled Tony's thigh and Tony patted his head, and the two of them lapsed into silence, letting the sounds from the television wash over them and fill the quiet space between them.


	8. Make Up Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the raw emotional intensity of the last chapter was hard to handle, never fear. This chapter is pretty much nothing but smut... and after this, we're off to the Alphas United conference for wacky fun hijinks! So stay tuned! - Tony

Tony and Steve stayed up late, watching television, not speaking.  There was nothing much to say and both of them were too tired, anyway.  Their body language spoke for itself.  Steve lay with his head on Tony's lap and Tony stroked him; Tony's fingers felt nice in his hair. Steve sighed. He didn't know if it was the right time to mention that the chance of Bucky ever being woken up from cryo was like one in a million. He didn't want Tony to think he was upset by that. He was trying not to be.

Nonetheless, he was.  The guilt ate at him as they watched _Breaking Bad,_ a story that, like most television, featured mostly betas who didn't worry about things like status hierarchies or heat cycles or pair-bonding and could carry on with their normal, simple lives, doing things like cooking meth.

"You know... people in the forties used to punish their Omegas when they disobeyed them," said Steve softly as an episode ended and the credits rolled.

"...Did Bucky punish you?" asked Tony.  He wondered if his dad ever punished Jarvis.  He couldn't imagine it. For one thing, Jarvis was so incredibly obedient.  He knew Howard had slapped Jarvis once or twice, while drunk, but that didn't really mean anything.  He'd also slapped Tony for no other reason than he was in the way. The only person who had probably never gotten a whack from a drunken Howard was Obadiah, who was not only terrifyingly dominant, but also taller than Howard.  Obadiah was huge; regardless of status, he could manhandle Howard with ease.

Tony, of course, growing up in the seventies and eighties in the upper crust of society, had never really been aware of such things.  Omegas were all well-behaved in his neighborhood. No one would keep an omega that wasn't, after all. The omegas were pleasant and servile and Tony had never seen anyone have to raise a hand to one, at least not in public.  In the country club, the omegas floated around with a pleasant sort of desperation to please, and Tony couldn't think of a fault with a single one of them.

"He never hit me," Steve said, avoiding the question somewhat. Steve was too small to be hit and he bruised easy. Every alley fight he had turned him black and blue. "If...if he was annoyed at me sometimes he'd go out even if he wasn't planning to. He'd bring a girl home. It was like teaching me a lesson, I guess. I don't know. It didn't work, just made me feel shittier.  ...as your mate I'm supposed to make you feel like a stronger Alpha, not a weaker one," Steve sighed. His gaze flitted to the TV screen.

"...I don't wanna punish you.  That's... frankly just disgusting to me, the idea of putting an omega in line.  Like they're a... a misbehaving dog or something. But I don't know _what_ to do because I feel like half the shit _you_ do undermines my standing and... in case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly need help, I'm not really all that dominant to begin with."  Tony sighed, still softly stroking Steve's hair.

"You do know I've always been a little shit, right?" Steve breathed and he almost smiled. But then his expression became more serious again. "And I'm not trying to undermine you. That's never my intention. I'm impulsive. I'm good at acting without thinking about the consequences... well, that's what Peg says, anyway." He sighed softly and let his eyes slip shut for a moment.

Another episode had begun.  Two men in yellow jumpsuits were breaking up what looked like blue shards of glass. Both of them were betas. It was a show that really wasn't about status. Just like _Friends_. They were all betas in that too. "I'm really bad at this, aren't I?  ...Aria said I should get treatment for PTSD, like...for a soldier," ventured Steve.

"We're both sort of shitty at this, to be honest.  Yeah. Yeah, you should probably... check that out.  And maybe talk about your jealousy deal. I won't bring home any girls, Steve. I promise you that. But I wanna be able to flirt. I just like the attention of beautiful women... is that so bad?"  He paused. "...why would Bucky... do that? What did you do?" Tony couldn't imagine Steve, pre-serum, doing anything that would warrant punishment. He got the impression that the serum had given Steve the confidence he needed to be as uppity as he was.

"I used to start fights with Alphas who said shit on the street all the time. I was a menace. And when Bucky ignored me it just made me play out more. I would try to go to bars because he didn't want me drinking, worried about my health and all that...but I was curious and bored. I got drunk once. He was so mad at me. It was stuff like that.  ...omegas weren't even really s'posed to drink in my century.  It was considered... you know, immodest."

Tony snorted.  To him, drinking was a fundamental right to all, regardless of status.  "I'm _trying_ to be supportive," said Tony.  "You get that, right?  I'm trying to stand up beside you, be into all this omega rights stuff, but it's hard, Steve.   _You_ try being raised by Howard Stark and Obadiah Stane... God, it was like being a rabbit raised by wolves.  Did you know that everyone at Stark Industries called my dad's office _The Lion's Den_?  People were fucking scared of him.  Everyone thought it was _cute_ how I was so... so not-assertive.  But not Dad. He was just disappointed.  ...did you know he gave me my first drink when I was eight?  Trying to toughen me up, I guess. . _..eight,_ Steve.  Jesus Christ, I never stood a chance."

"Yes. I get that." Steve breathed. Jesus. Howard sounded like a bad father. Natasha had laughed at his face when she'd told Steve he'd had a son because that news alone had been shocking. Howard with a child... the image wouldn't sit in Steve's mind. "When we sat there with Gideon you were amazing. And your idea for the conference was amazing too. You're not just 'trying' Tony; you're good at this and I know that when I go to meet those omega lawyers tomorrow they're not going to think less of me for being with an Alpha like you. Quite the opposite." 

Tony patted Steve's head.  "Thanks, Stevie."

Steve paused.  "Are the lawyers for omegas or are they omegas themselves?  Aria didn't really say."

"...probably both, I guess.  Omegas can be lawyers now," Tony reassured Steve.

"Wow," said Steve.  He lapsed back into thought while, on the television, one of the two beta men staggering around the desert in his underwear.  What a time to be alive. 

"...now that Bucky's in cryo... you won't... you won't go back to him again, right?  You'll stay with me now?" asked Tony, breaking up his reverie.  Tony didn't add that he couldn't shake the feeling of failure from their failed mating.  That he'd love to go to town, but that the gland on Steve's neck had such an awful taste... it was like Steve's body was trying to sabotage them.

"No. I'm not going to go be mated to a freezer," Steve assured him. "He's probably...well, he won't be let out unless they have a solution. And even then he's mildly insane. I don't really think there's a person to go back to, is there?  Besides, he touched without asking, Tony. You never do that." 

"...may I?" asked Tony, demonstratively.

"Yeah," said Steve.  It was like he could feel Tony's gaze on the back of his neck without having to look up. A moment later, he felt Tony's fingers on his bond-mark, gently tracing its outline.  "I... Googled it," Steve admitted. "Just because it tastes bad one time doesn't mean it always will.  The gland and the mark, they can change over time."

"...do you really want to be... taken like that?  Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?  Or trying to punish yourself? Because, believe it or not, I do care about getting my partner off."  Tony was an unapologetically selfish lover who tended to put himself first. However, he also took a certain level of pride in getting his partner off.  He wanted people to walk away with their minds blown, and usually, they were. He'd earned a hell of a reputation because of it.

"Yes, I mean, I do want it. And maybe it's a little punishment too but I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing if I enjoy it," he murmured and felt a little heat rise to his cheeks. Because he would... enjoy it, that was. Steve swallowed. They were supposed to do having a serious conversation and here he was blushing like a schoolboy. "I don't think there's ever been a time when you haven't actually... gotten me off as well," he pointed out.

Tony's mouth twitched.  "Well... well, you're easy to get off.  Sensitive," he said. He glanced down; Steve was blushing.  It was cute.

Steve's blush only got worse at that. "Side effect of the serum, I believe," he said, trying to sound _way_ more casual than he actually felt.

Gently, Tony shifted Steve on his lap and reached down to unzip his pants.  "Steve... I don't ever want you to run off like that again. I mean it. I told you, already, that losing you was... was the worst thing.  That I never, ever want to let you go ahead. Pushing me away like you did... not calling, not telling me where you were... I never want you to do that again, Steve.  Okay?"

He slid a finger along the curve of Steve's ear, feeling the soft, downy blond fuzz on the pinna. 

Steve let Tony move his head and then heard the other undoing his zipper and his breath hitched a little. "Okay," he said, after a beat. "I won't push you away again. I'm sorry. I didn't even know I could do that. I...I guess I was pretty...angry." His words became disjointed as Tony's finger slid down the sensitive skin of his ear. The touch was so innocent but Steve felt like it implied more.  "I guess it would help if I actually remembered to charge my phone for once, too."

"...let's get you an external battery pack for emergencies," said Tony.  "...and for the record... you can't do that. You just... you sort of... I felt you wanting to be left alone, so I left you alone.  If you ever... if you ask me to distance us, I will. But I don't like it. I like being bonded, Steve. I like feeling you."

"I felt bad about the distance as soon as you did it," Steve murmured. "But I was angry and stressed and then...then I had to focus on doing the right thing. I hope I did it in the end."

Tony replied by placing a hand on the back of Steve's head and giving him a small push toward his crotch.

A lot of Tony's initial fury had subsided because of Steve's posturing.  Steve's body language was incredibly submissive; he rarely groveled, but seeing him speak softly and avoid eye contact and kneel, all of it made Tony hard-wired to forgive him and reassure him.

Damn it, omegas could be so fucking manipulative.

"Don't do it again," repeated Tony.  "Run away like that." His voice was sterner than he meant it to be; he ran his fingers through Steve's hair, just to let him know he didn't mean it to sound so cruel, and then gave his head another encouraging little push.

A shiver ran down Steve's spine as Tony's fingers curled through his hair and wordlessly guided him to where he wanted him to be. The fact that he didn't even have to say it just turned Steve on even more. His cheeks were still pink, but had died on a little. They would soon fix that.

"I won't. I'll be better." Steve breathed and leaned forward. He rolled onto his front and edged closer, a strange coil tightening in his belly as he leaned forward to nuzzle Tony's crotch before he mouthed at his Alpha's member through his boxers.

Tony let out a small, soft sigh of satisfaction and placed both of his hands on Steve's head, spreading his legs and leaning his head over the back of the couch.

He wanted to stay mad at Steve, he really did.  But Steve's deference caught him off-guard, numbed him, and then feeling that sweet mouth moving between his legs, teasing him through the fabric...

"Yeah," he murmured softly, lifting his hips a little.  Just like that, Steve was forgiven. Of course he was. Tony, like any Alpha, turned into putty at Steve's submissiveness.  And Steve wasn't just any omega. He was Steve. He was the best omega of them all. And even if his smell was a little weird, it was still Steve, and it still called to Tony's as strongly as ever.

They weren't done talking about this.  Not by a long shot. Both of them had about a million issues they needed to work through.  But for now, at least, they were done, and... stable-ish. And even if they weren't, Tony didn't care, because his mind was numb with arousal and his cock was twitching at the hint of Steve's mouth.

Steve lifted his head away once Tony was half hard beneath him to pull down the fabric of his boxers. And then he surged forward with a renewed enthusiasm, sucking the head into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the slit just like he knew Tony liked. He felt his Alpha shiver in response and smiled around him. He pulled away a little, letting the head sit on his tongue as he looked up to watch Tony's expression.

Tony let out a half-sigh, half-groan of satisfaction.  He glanced down when he felt Steve pull away; Steve was smiling up at him, his lips still wrapped around the end of his member.

Then Steve sank back down, taking Tony in deep until the head nudged the back of his mouth. Then he began to bob his head, keeping it thorough and slow as his tongue traced that familiar vein on the underside. He knew Tony's clicks by now, what made him moan and what made him grab Steve and flip him over... but this was about taking his time right now, giving Tony the time he deserved.

Tony flipped his head back again with a groan.  Steve sank down and Tony shuddered with delight as the omega sucked him off, slow and sweet, his tongue tracing familiar skin, never giving Tony too much.

"That's amazing, Steve... I love how you suck dick... oh, yeah... good boy... good omega... _my_ omega... Say it.  Let me hear you say it."

Steve pulled off to trail his tongue along the shaft, his blue eyes dark as they flicked up to Tony's face. He looked practically sinful. "I had a good teacher," he pointed out, voice seductively soft. He sucked on the head again. "I'm yours. I'm your omega," he repeated, a tremor running down in his spine every time Tony had said 'good boy.'

"You wanna come in my mouth?" Steve asked, voice low. He didn't know if Tony planned to finish like this, or in some other position. Before Tony answered he moved to take him in again, bobbing his head a few times before he let the head squeeze into his throat.

"Dunno..." gasped Tony softly, arcing into Steve's mouth.  "Where do you want it?" He doubted he was going to last especially long if Steve insisted on pulling the whole length in and teasing his knot with his tongue.  "...oh, fuuuck... play with my balls... just a little... wanna finish inside you..."

He was having trouble forming coherent words, or thoughts.  Steve was so sinfully good at this. And this was all for him.  This was something only they shared; Steve and Bucky had never gotten past first base, as far as Tony was aware.

Steve reached a hand up, brushing against his thigh before he moved to play with Tony's balls just liked he asked, sucking as he drew back off. He let let the wet tip rest against his lips, mouth slightly parted. This is what good omegas did. Steve was getting hard himself now and wet between his legs.

"When you say inside me," he murmured. "You mean in my mouth or _inside me_?" Steve asked, low a low rumble. This was always something him and Tony would have that was just for each other. How could he feel like a weak Alpha when he took Captain America's virginity? It was time Steve reminded him of that.

Tony's hands clenched onto the fabric of the sofa as Steve began rolling his balls around in his hand.

"...inside..." he mumbled weakly, arching.  "... _inside_... wanna mate you..."

Steve was murmuring against his head and Tony couldn't stand it anymore.

He reached down, pulled Steve off him, got up, and got behind Steve, the two of them kneeling, Steve pressed against the sofa.  Tony pushed his dressing gown aside, practically panting with eagerness, with expectation. He leaned forward and his teeth grazed the back of Steve's neck; he found the indents of his canines and gently bit there, where his mouth still fit.  Not hard enough to break the gland. No. He didn't want to ruin things this time. He wanted to bite Steve and knot Steve and shoot a heavy load of jizz into Steve, and he didn't want to chance ruining that by breaking open the gland again.

"Mine... mine... mine... mine..." Tony was panting; the manta was almost part of his breathing; he needed this, needed to claimed Steve, needed Steve to be his and his alone.

Steve's entrance was tight, warm, and moist; he pushed against it, softly growling into Steve's neck, the mark that was half-his inside his mouth.

Steve whined as Tony got up behind him. his front draping over his back. Steve gripped the cushions of the sofa for purchase, his forehead pressed against the edge as he offered up his neck to Tony. He trembled at the first drag of teeth and then moaned as Tony's teeth sank down into his neck. He got wetter, the sensation a delight. "Yours. Yours. Please Tony, I need-" He choked a little as Tony nudged against his entrance.

" _Fuuck_ ," Steve groaned as the head squeezed inside of him. He shuddered, his back arcing in pleasure as Tony slowly slid deep into his ass. He probably could have done with a little prep but Steve appreciated the low burn in that moment. "This is just for you.  Just for you," he murmured, voice shaky. "Just for you, Tony; only you get to see this."

" _Mine,"_ repeated Tony firmly, confidently.  He wiggled his hips, pressing Steve harder into the couch, seeking more of him.  Steve's body protested at the intrusion of the knot; Tony ignored it, gripping Steve's wrists and biting slightly harder, pressing harder; he could feel Steve's legs shaking, and he heard Steve make a noise when he finally managed to shove the knot into him.

Tony's body shuddered and he rocked his hips, letting Steve's tight, wet entrance milk him.  He moaned into Steve's neck at the sensation; there was nothing else quite like it, the tightness with with Steve's body clenched his knot.  This was something no beta woman could do, tease the knot like this... Tony felt like Steve's body was begging for his seed, trying to tease it out of him, and he was in ecstasy as he thrust, hard and deep and sharp, into his omega, feeling the tug-back every time he tried to pull too far out, the desperation of Steve's body to keep him.  He loved being knotted; the first time (it felt like forever ago) he'd panicked. Now he liked feeling that he and Steve were stuck together.

His mouth was still on Steve's neck but he was making a conscious, strong effort not to bite down hard.  He wasn't tasting anything weird, so he guessed it was working.

Steve whimpered as Tony bottomed out inside of him, his body really not ready for a knot. But he didn't care. He fucking wanted it and his body did too and it felt so _good_ inside of him, even if he would be walking a little funny in the morning. When Tony pinned his arms down and his teeth dug in more it sent Steve's brain offline and he was soon letting out a string of whines and little moans as they both got used to the situation of being practically fused together. It had been far too long since they'd done this.

He cried out when Tony first thrust into him, the head of his dick pressed just against Steve's prostate. His fingers dug into the couch. He was pretty sure he heard a ripping sound... _oh well_. Steve was far too preoccupied to care. He rocked his hips back in small, circular motions, encouraging Tony inside of him every time he slide in and made Steve's back arch up again. "T-Tony...Tony. Oh my God. F-Fuck. Alpha. _Please_. Fill me up. Make--" He gasped as Tony hit his prostate just right. "Make me yours."

Tony moaned against Steve's skin at the words.  Alpha. Yes. That was him. He was Steve's Alpha.

He thrust harder, faster; he felt Steve quivering and whimpering beneath him, Steve's own body moving, seeking out its own pleasure automatically.  Every time Tony hit Steve's prostate, Steve's whole body clenched deliciously around him, tugging the knot.

"Gnn... gn... gn..." grunted Tony into the back of Steve's neck.  They were both on the floor, and Tony was scrambling for purchase, wanting to fit more in, even though his balls were already hitting Steve's skin and there was no more to put in him; Steve was melting into the couch, pleading, blue eyes wide and glassy with pleasure.

Tony felt the swell of his orgasm and eagerly buried himself, biting down, hard.

Something squirted in his mouth, something bitter, sharp; he bite down harder, already riding out his climax, pumping himself into Steve, too undone from gratification to really care about the taste.

The sensation of Tony filling him up with his release was almost enough to tip Steve over the edge. He groaned at the sensation, throwing his head back as he rode out Tony's orgasm, snapping his hips down to take all of him. His thighs trembled. And then, as Tony bit down, Steve came at the sensation, his whole body lighting up. Very sensitive indeed.

He panted as he came down, leaning his forehead back against the sofa before he doubted he could take his weight. His hands flexed under Tony's now-loose grip and he smiled a little. Steve let out a weak laugh. "I think...we might have to buy them a new sofa," he breathed, hair stuck to his forehead. And he'd just showered. Goddammit.

Tony had left a fresh mark for the morning. Everyone would see it.

"Was it good for you?" asked Tony, voice soft.

"It felt really good," Steve assured him in a quiet whisper. Then he whined low in his throat as Tony thrust into him, his hands bunching up in the fabric of the sofa. His dick twitched against his thigh with interest. "Tony..." he sighed, almost like a warning.

Tony kissed the back of his neck.

"Do... do you think we could make it up onto the sofa or we're stuck here on the floor for half an hour?" Steve asked, eyes half drooping shut.

"...yeah, we can get up."

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders and his legs around Steve's waist.

"...giddy-up," he joked.

One of the nice things about having an omega much bigger than him was that, when they ended up on the floor, Steve could pretty easily muscle them into a more comfortable position, even if they were knotted.

Tony wiggled a little, enjoying the feeling of being stuck inside Steve, knowing Steve was filled up him.  He turned his head to try to spit out some of the bitter flavor from Steve's neck, to no avail.

Steve grunted at the effort. It felt weird standing up. Tony wasn't heavy but as Steve moved the other's knot shifted inside of him. Steve was quickly blushing again. "This is so weird," he said and headed towards the bedroom because he could. Steve had to pause in the bedroom doorway though, a hand on the side, to gather himself up before he made it into bed.

When they laid down Tony sprawled out over Steve's back because that was the most comfortable position they could muster.

"...if you wore a collar, I'd bite that," he said, almost like an afterthought.

"Definitely can't get a metal one then," Steve pointed out, tucking his hands under his head as he got comfy in the sheets. His eyes were half drooping shut again.  "Was my neck still... bad?" he asked hesitantly. "Bad as last time? It didn't hurt for me at all. Well--" He blushed again. "Not in ways I didn't like."

Tony huffed softly, an almost-laugh.  "It still tastes... real bad," he confirmed.  "But it's okay. I... I still have a few toothmarks I can line up to.  The upper canines and one of the lower ones. ...and it was easier because I... I wasn't surprised."

He gave Steve a couple of friendly thrusts; Steve's body tensed against them.

"...I... like the metal ones," ventured Tony carefully, aware he was treading on thin ice with this topic.  He squirmed a little, trying to find a comfortable position. Steve's body was hugging his knot so warmly, with such a snug, sweet sort of possessiveness that Tony was thinking about going again in a bit.  "...I like the... way they look and stuff. ...if you don't like them 'cause they're cold we can just get you a nice lining. I mean--" Tony fumbled over his words. "I mean, if you wanted. Just for us, I mean, in the-- the bedroom, not like-- not like I'd ever ask you to wear something like that in public.  I mean, if you want to, if you-- like that, but you don't have to, obviously, I was just... letting you know."

"As long as it's not cold. I just...I hate the cold." He understood that they didn't have proper linings because they weren't fitted and they were easier to try on. "That's the thing. If you want to pick one for me, I don't want it in the papers when we go to the conference. If it means that much then only you get to see it. Not the whole world." Steve squirmed a little underneath and smiled triumphantly when he heard Tony let out a noise in response.

"I was reading about the conference," continued Steve.  "I couldn't find much. I'm kinda confused about they actually _do_ while they're there."

"Beats me.  Guess we'll find out," said Tony with a shrugged, idly rocking against Steve.  Steve was squirming back against him. "So... so... if I... got one for you... you'd wear it?  Just for me?" He tried not to sound too desperate.

Before Steve could answer, though, Tony's phone began ringing; Tony twitched and he heard Steve gasp beneath him.

He reached around to grasp Steve's dick.

"Yes, answer, speak, put it on speaker!" he yelled to the phone, which was across the room.

"...Tony?  It's Pepper."

"T-Tony. What are you--" Steve went deadly quiet when Pepper answered and tried to ignore how good Tony's hand felt on his dick.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Hogan," said Tony perkily.

"Shut up.  Listen, Steve's phone is dead but I need to talk to him, as soon as humanly possible.  Aria and everyone had done a really good job of covering up his little... vacation. But you also canceled five meetings with five different luxury jewelers and if you and Steve want to go to that conference, which I advise against, by the way, you're going to need to--"

"So you want to talk to Steve?" interrupted Tony.

"--yes!  Is he there?"

"Yeah, I'm balls deep in him.  Say hi, Steve."

Tony could practically _feel_ Steve blushing beneath him.

" _Anthony!_ " snapped Pepper.

Oh, God. Steve was dying from embarrassment. He was bright red and hiding his face into a pillow. "Oh, _no_ ," he groaned into the sheets. "I hate you."

And Tony's dick was gradually swelling inside of him again. And it felt good. Crap.

"I'll call you back!" Steve called out and Pepper took mercy on him and hung up.

"...you know she knows we fuck, right?" asked Tony, rocking against Steve's body.  He leaned down to murmur in Steve's ear. "You know I could never love her like I love you, right?  You know you're the only omega in the world for me, and I love you?" He nipped Steve's earlobe. In his hand, Steve's shaft had gotten hard; Tony could feel it throbbing.

He pulled Steve's earlobe into his mouth, half-biting and tagging, half-sucking, growling affectionately against him.  He hoped Steve remembered to call Pepper back because he sure as hell wasn't going to remember.

Steve shivered as Tony sucked and bit at his ear, trembling beneath as he slowly rocked into his hand. He moaned, pushing his hips up into Tony too and encouraging him to move. "I know it's not a secret that we have sex. But that doesn't mean I should have to try and have a sane conversation with anyone while your dick is up my ass."

He shot Tony a look over his shoulder and then clenched around him, smiling at the other's reaction. "In answer to your question," he breathed, voice sweet and expression mischievous, "Yes. I think I would _maybe_ consider wearing a collar for you, in private. So long as it didn't look tacky. That rose gold one looked awful."

"I wouldn't get you rose gold," said Tony, drawing away, still rocking against Steve.  "I liked the platinum, though. The one with sapphires was nice... you look so good in blue... it makes you eyes pop.  I love it when you wear blue."

"Then I'll wear blue for you," Steve whispered reverently, moving to push himself up onto his elbows so his back arced up. He belatedly realized neither of them had eaten dinner. "Should order some food after--" He gasped softly when Tony's dick nudged that sweet spot inside of him. He half-smiled.

"Hey," he breathed, like he was just realizing for the first time. "I love you too."

"Yeah," purred Tony, already envisioning Steve in nothing but a silver collar with blue stones.  He wrapped his arms around Steve, rutting into him aggressively. Steve said he loved him. They loved each other.  Bucky was gone, right? It was just them now.

He could hear Steve whimpering as his cock massaged the other's prostate.

"If you come for me, I'll give you more," growled Tony enticingly as he fucked Steve.  "You want more? You want to be all filled up?"

All of his earlier annoyance with Steve was gone, the anger channeled into sexual energy.  Which was actually surprisingly common for Alphas, regardless of ranking. Currently, all Tony could think about was Steve's body and how good it felt on him; Steve was a perfect fit, his hole sheathing Tony's cock like it was fucking made for it.

The phone rang again but Tony ignored it, too lost in bliss to really care much about whoever was on the other line.

Steve cried out, almost in relief, as Tony began driving into him properly. It even made the bed shake a little and Steve's thighs quivered again as they were spread wider with each thrust.

"Please. Please I want it. Tony I want it. I want you to fill me up, Alpha, please. I love it. Love being so full of you," Steve panted, head ducked down between his biceps as he moaned loudly. He clenched around Tony as he drew out, teasing at his cock. And then when Tony thrust inside again and twisted his wrist Steve came with a groan, spilling onto Tony's hand and the bed sheets beneath them.

He squirmed on Tony's still-hard cock. "Come on." Steve was so goddamn needy like this. "What are you waiting for?"

Tony gritted his teeth, fucking Steve relentlessly.  It was harder to come the second time, so close to the first, but he managed; he let out a long, loud moan, his fingers digging into Steve's flesh, pressing himself into the other and twitching jerkily.  It left him a sweaty, quivering mess on top of Steve. His knot was throbbing with a dull but satisfied ache and he knew without moving they were firmly locked together.

His mouth still tasted bitter.  He tried to ignore that, focus on the post-coital afterglow, on the physical sensations, on relearning Steve's new smell as desirable.  He'd briefly entertained the idea that maybe, somehow, Bucky being in cryo would be like Bucky being dead and Steve's body would go back to being _his_.  But it didn't work that way.  Steve's body had pledged its allegiance to the other Alpha and nothing sort of death would change that.

"...you okay?" asked Tony.  It felt like a dumb question to ask Captain America, but at the end, he'd really been _fucking_ him, the kind of fucking that bordered on violent.

"Okay? Yeah, I'm more than okay, Tony," Steve assured him with a pleased hum. Because of the serum the evidence of their coupling rarely stayed around for long, even bruises or bites would fade. So for him it wasn't exactly a bad thing if he might feel it in the morning, it was almost a novelty. He wiggled against him as if to make a point before he slumped back down in the sheets, curling his arms under a pillow.

The phone chimed.  Tony reached for it, couldn't get to it without pulling on his dick (which was overly sensitive and didn't want to be tugged on), and gave up.

"Pepper and Aria probably want to talk to you.  About what happened and about the... plans for the AU conference," said Tony, settling back down, draped over Steve's back.  "...Steve, I know I already said this, but listen to me, okay? ...this might be... hard for you. You freaked out back there over the collars.  And this isn't going to be a couple of nice omegas handing you collars. These guys, they're going to treat you like you're subhuman, and they're going to have their own collared omegas with them, and... and it might be hard.  I know you're always saying how it's okay 'cause you dealt with it in the forties, but it's not okay, and I think you're entitled to a break from that shit. ...you know how you said omegas got punished back in your day? You know that, literally, this conference... there's gonna be Alphas there who are going to be groping you and ordering you around and... and I'm gonna be the one they listen to, not you.  And I'm not very dominant. And if they don't think I'm putting you in your place, they might do it themselves. I know you can handle yourself, but you shouldn't have to. This thing's gonna be stressful and... and you know, Aria's right, you _do_ have PTSD or something.  You stress yourself out too hard and then you have these self-destructive meltdowns, and frankly, that's kind of my thing so I'd appreciate it if you stopped copying me."

Steve almost smiled when Tony accused him of copying him. But the other stuff was pretty serious. "The difference with the collar shop was that I was supposed to be okay with that. It was a calm environment, no oppression to be seen. Sure, that Kitty girl was wearing a collar, but it's for a job.  That's different. This conference...I don't have to be okay with it. I know we're turning up in collars, following the rules...but there's no real rules about how an omega should and shouldn't behave, is there? It's just expected. I'm not here to fight with these people. I don't want to just be a rowdy omega and shove it in their face. I want them to see us _differently_. And as long as you're there next to me, then I think I'll be okay. Just never leave alone with any of the Alphas, right? I don't want to break any more noses.  Because if someone thinks they can grope Captain America they've got another thing coming. I think if I let that happen Dum-Dum would turn over in his grave."

Tony smiled slightly.  He had weird nicknames for nearly all of his old war buddies, and some of them Tony was familiar with, because his father had mentioned them occasionally, in passing.

"I won't leave you alone," he reassured Steve, his tone surprisingly sincere.  He shifted a little, settling down to relax; he drifted off before the two of them were unknotted.


	9. Into the Lion's Den

Steve shouldn't have been surprised when he was woke up the next morning, not by the alarm, but by both the phone ringing and a pounding on his door.

Tony, on top of him, groaned, rolled off, grabbed the phone, and threw it at the door, clearly trying to kill two birds with one stone.  Or one phone, as the case may be. Both of them could have predicted an early wake-up call, thanks to Steve's actions the previous day and the consequential fallout... not to mention, of course, the media explosion that had come with rumors that they were going to buy a collar.

Steve groaned as he was woken up, sighing in relief with the ringing stopped. But then the knocking on the door continued and it seemed they weren't to be left alone. He'd really wanted a lie in with Tony, but no such luck. He sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair. "Alright! I'm up! I'm just going to shower."

"Steve, can you just come out for a quick word first?" It was Pepper or Aria; he was still too asleep to tell.

"Er..." He looked down at himself. "I'm not coming out before I shower."

To Steve's credit, he was quick. He showered in five minutes and was dressed in under ten, wearing the 'smart' clothes Aria had asked for. Black trousers and a blue shirt, his usual navy jacket on top. He stepped out to find everyone outside. Tony already had coffee, which meant there had to be some--

"Here you go," Aria handed him a cup. Steve smiled gratefully. "Sorry we woke you." She definitely was not sorry.

"It's okay," Steve said and moved to sit down. He tried to keep his face neutral as he did so. "We don't have to leave for another half an hour though, right?"

"A half-hour isn't going to be enough to get through all this," said Pepper, slamming several bound stacks of paper onto the table.  "These are your official statements and debriefings regarding the incident wherein you destroyed your tracker and went to go hang out with Banksy and Ty.  The two of them corroborated a story. You don't have to say anything; you were, after all, too distraught to really remember. Got it? Tony, take this. Updated itinerary.  I was able to reschedule Bulgari, Hermès, and David Yurman, but Piaget and Harry Winston are out, thanks you your last-minute cancellation."

"We can push it to forty minutes," Aria said, tapping away on her phone. "But I don't want us to be late. It wouldn't be a good first impression."

"...I don't think we want to go try on collars," said Tony quickly, shooting a look over at Steve.

"Well, if you want to go to the AU conference, you don't have a choice," said Pepper.  She reached out to tap the stack of papers with her nail. "Start signing."

"I mean, they don't have to be designer, right?" Steve asked, after meeting Tony's gaze.

Aria sighed. "If you turn up with something not designer it might be perceived as a little... rude. You're already both wearing collars. You'd be pushing it, Steve."

"The whole point of going is pushing it," Steve protested.

Pepper handed him a pen and Steve started signing in between sips of coffee. He needed to get a ten shot wonder again; that coffee Natasha had given him on the jet had been a real wake up. He'd missed those kind of caffeine highs.

"Actually, I took the liberty of obtaining a copy of the convention's rules," said Pepper, holding up a sheet of paper.  She recited from memory: "Omegas are allowed on premises only in their capacity as staff or if bonded and in a locked collar; omegas must be escorted at all times by their Alpha and are expected to behave with a decorum befitting their status and the expectations of their Alpha."

"Holy shit," said Tony, who couldn't believe such rules had actually been written down.  Aria looked murderous.

"So while it technically doesn't have to be metal, or designer, it _does_ have to lock, and I suspect they had a certain image in mind," said Pepper.  "...also, I suspect they'll use any means possible to bar you two from coming when Tony shows up in a collar."

"... _decorum befitting their status_... what a bunch of assholes..." growled Tony.

"Yes.  Yes, they are," agreed Pepper, flipping a page for Steve to keep signing.

"Escorted at all times? What about when you need the toilet?" Steve asked, looking alarmed. He was going to break so many of those rules just by existing. He didn't behave 'appropriately' for an omega at all. Even if they kicked him out, though he guessed it would be funny, and make a point...

"But it's not against the rules, is it? Tony wearing one too?"

Pepper hummed. "Well, technically not."

"The ones I got yesterday definitely don't lock..." Steve murmured. "Does this mean I have to dress a certain way too?"

"...the ones you got yesterday?" repeated Pepper, blinking.

"I was getting flowers," Steve pointed out, sipping at his coffee which would sadly offer no real benefit.

"Steve got some collars," said Tony.  He suddenly wondered if Steve might have gotten them with Bucky.  He didn't know. Steve had disappeared with Bucky, come back with collars... a cold shiver ran up Tony's spine, which he tried to ignore by changing the subject.  "Well? Is there a dress code?"

"...no dress code for omegas.  A very strict one for Alphas, though," said Pepper.  "Suit, tie, jacket..."

"I suppose Alphas are supposed to dress up their omegas nicely," said Aria, her tone bitter.

"I'll go in a suit too; I don't know what else I would wear," Steve said with a shrug. He reached for some toast that had been left on the coffee table. It was slathered in butter.

Tony turned to Steve.  "Listen, Steve... I don't know if... if this is a bad idea, but what if _I_ went and got the collars?  You hated trying them on in front of people. I could just pick 'em out myself, if that'd be easier for you."

"I can read the headlines now," groaned Pepper.

"I would prefer it if I didn't have to be involved in the process," Steve hummed, glancing down. "It was quite stressful."

"...okay," said Tony softly.  "Leave it to me, then. I'll go with something nice.  I promise." He reached over to brush his fingertips over Steve's cheek.

Steve's eyes fluttered up at the brush of fingers against his cheek. There was an energy between them that hadn't been present since before Yemen. Steve felt strangely better than he had in a very long time.

Aria and Pepper exchanged a glance at this tiny moment of intimate affection.

"Until then," said Aria, fixing Steve with a look, "We've got a lot of work to go over regarding Project Eighty-Four."

"And Tony, you're with me, the board wants you," said Pepper, rising.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," said Tony, rising and dusting his fingers off on his suit jacket.  "...but you rescheduled with those other guys, about the collars?"

Pepper winced.  "Yes. And you're going with a full detail.  People are going to lose it if they think you're trying to collar Steve... well, they're already losing it."

Tony grinned cockily, looking unconcerned.  "If I had the Mark IV..."

" _No.  Suits_."

"About Eight-Four," Steve said. "I want to be ready by July, but that's not possible, is it?"

Aria sighed. "Probably not."

"Maybe I shouldn't go on TV until after this conference then," Steve said tentatively. "They'd ask me to explain everything and I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"What's Project 84?" asked Tony.  It sounded insanely familiar and Steve must have mentioned it before, but he couldn't for the life of him place in what context.  Tony's brain had an incredible filter that tended to latch onto things like a steel vice, unless they were boring or irrelevant to him, in which case he dumped them with prejudice.  This was probably why most of his relationships had crashed and burned over the years; the vast majority of women Tony dated were vapid, shallow, and ditzy, so he didn't bother to listen to them much.

"I think Steve could use a break from television for a while," hummed Pepper, arranging the papers on the table.  "Surprises aside, the media's been putting both of you through the grinder since Yemen. And you're getting it from both sides.  Alphas and omegas."

"It's mostly directed toward me, though, right?" asked Tony, automatically leaping to protect Steve.

"Yes, mostly.  People like Steve and they don't like you," said Pepper.

"Even though I'm attractive and charming?" asked Tony.  Pepper rolled her eyes and didn't comment. Both of them knew why; weapons manufacturers were polarizing personalities, even on the best of days.  Tony's involvement in the civil rights movement, his frequent public drunken antics, and the various Iron Man fiascos and resulting collateral damage meant that Tony easily had as many enemies as he did fans.

"Okay, that's enough for now, go, you're going to be late," said Pepper, sliding a paper away from Steve mid-signature and gathering up her documents.

"Do I have to sign anything?" asked Tony.

"...I've been forging your signature for years," admitted Pepper.  "Sometimes it's just easier than getting you to cooperate."

"Some public notary you are," said Aria with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

"Project Eighty-Four is a surprise," Steve and leaned over to kiss Tony's forehead. "You'll see in time."

Things got so much better after that. Steve and Tony's week of business went well. And _they_ got better, too. Sure, maybe one of the walls in the hotel suite got a little dent in it and maybe the headboard snapped a few places (four). But the hotel were polite enough not to complain about it. Apparently Steve and Tony were infamous enough to get away with quite a lot.

Tony and Steve didn't talk much about Bucky in the following week.  Tony was, being Tony, cripplingly allergic to any sort of emotional discussion.  Instead, encouraged by Steve's positive reaction to their mating, instead opted to fuck Steve stupid at least once a day, channeling whatever frustrations or insecurities he had into unbridled mating that obliterated large portions of their hotel room.  Clint had been absolutely correct in his advice; when Steve acted submissive, Tony's insecurities melted like warmed butter.

He bit on Steve's neck and shoulders, trying to find a new way to mate him, but the most comfortable position always ended up being a bite over what remained over the original mark, and eventually he stopped trying to find new places to bite, simply re-marking Steve every night, spitting out the bitter taste whenever he broke the skin.

Another benefit to their rigorous daily mating was that Tony's drinking ebbed.  It didn't stop, but at least now it could be measured in glasses as opposed to bottles.

After their week of business it was time to face the conference. Steve knew that Tony had bought collars (although be hadn't actually seen them yet) and he'd gotten a new suit with Aria while shopping in New York. They were taking the private plane again and it was a longer journey than usual. Steve was oddly excited yet nervous; it was a similar kind of buzz he'd get going into battle. Which felt oddly fitting.

On the morning of their departure, Tony had a cup of coffee, and on the plane, he had only a half-glass of scotch, which was probably the least anyone had seen him drink since before the beginning of the year.

He demanded an Eldritch knot on his tie from Pepper and spent at least fifteen minutes playing with Steve's hair.  Tony had strong feelings on hair; he spent an inordinate amount of time on his every morning, sometimes up to thirty minutes, and that didn't even include trimming his goatee.  Tony had spent ages in the bathroom grooming himself and had even asked Steve to shave, even though Steve, being an omega and blond, only shaved once a month, tops, and rarely grew anything more than a fine, downy fuzz that couldn't really be called a beard at all.

"Boys! Go get dressed; we'll be landing in forty minutes. It's two hours until the conference starts," Pepper announced, shooing them away to one of the cabins at the back of the plane.

Steve's new suit was mostly black with deep blue details to bring out his eyes. He wore a waistcoat and a jacket and had a white shirt underneath. He let Tony fix his hair for him, because, truly, Steve was useless at that kind of thing. 

"You finally gonna show me what you bought?" Steve asked, watching the cute twitch in Tony's brow as he pushed the last few strands of blonde hair into place.

Ton's fingers, which had been deftly maneuvering strands of Steve's hair (a pointless exercise; Steve wore his hair short and to army regulations, which meant it never got wild like Tony's), paused at Steve's question.

Tony had made the three appointments to the jewelers alone.  He had dismissed Bulgari immediately after arriving and being told by a pleased Alpha that it was "about time" that he began "teaching that omega his place."  He hadn't liked any of the collars from Yurman or Hermès, going back to Cartier in the end and custom ordering a collar. He got a lot of raised eyebrows when he demanded it be finished within the week, and even more raised eyebrows when he ordered two collars in two different sizes.

"...okay.  But before I give it to you, I want you to know that... that if you don't like it, that's totally okay.  We don't have to go to the conference. If you want, we can just show up and let them refuse us entry, and we'll still make a point, and you don't have to wear it at all," said Tony.  Even though his voice was calm, there was clear anxiety in his eyes. As much as he liked the _idea_ of Steve wearing a collar, he couldn't help but remember Steve's panic when he first tried one on, or all the shit with Bucky that had happened immediately following.  The whole thing had turned him off on the idea of a collar entirely.

He finished fiddling with Steve's hair before getting up and going to root around in his luggage.  He approached Steve slowly, handing him a thin black box with a silver ribbon. He watched with an anxious sort of intensity as Steve untied the ribbon.

"...I mean, if you hate it, seriously, we can return it, donate the money to charity, whatever--" Tony was saying apologetically.  He was going to be damned if he told Steve how much he'd actually spent; the figure for both had been just under two million and he knew Steve would lose it if he found out.

Inside the box was the collar and two keys.  The collar was silver... more specifically, vibranium imported from Wakanda.  It was enameled with a white filigree and had a subtle smattering of sapphires, just enough to make the blue of Steve's eyes pop.  One of the keys had a matching sapphire set into the base, but the other one had a garnet.

"...the, uh, that one goes to mine, I thought you should keep both... I got them engraved, I dunno, you mentioned getting them engraved so I did that--"

On the inside of the collar there were only three symbols. A mathematical equation, Tony's primary language and the easiest way for him to express himself.  

A = Ω

Steve's thumb traced over the engraving with a small smile playing at his lips. He already felt like less of a traitor to his ideals, knowing that was written inside. It was simple, but beautifully true. Steve set the box down carefully and then he leaned forward to kiss Tony softly. "Thank you," he murmured, nudging their noses together in an affectionate gesture.

The plane was coming in to land so they had to go sit back down. Happy would be driving them to the conference. It was at a very expensive hotel, or so Steve thought. It had looked like a hotel in the pictures. He was finding the whole event very mysterious and confusing.

"It's a good suit," Pepper said as Steve walked out, praising Aria's choice. "You ready?"

Steve nodded and headed towards the plane exit. "As I'll ever be."

"After all this don't actually forget to collar up Steve. Unless you don't want to, of course--"

"Aria. It's okay," Steve pulled her into a hug, now outside the plane. She looked surprised at the gesture. "I get it," he assured her and glanced up to see Happy accepting keys from another chauffeur.

"I packed a sketchbook into your bag, in case you want to angry draw or something."

Steve smiled.

"...what'd you pack me?" asked Tony, turning to Pepper.

"An admonishment to _behave_."

"...that's a lot less fun than a sketchbook," said Tony.

He and Steve clambered into the back of the rented Escalade.  As usual, the windows were tinted. Other than Happy, there was one more of Tony's bodyguards, Ido.  But the guards wouldn't be following them into the conference; they couldn't, as they were betas.

"Remember, if you get freaked out or feel uncomfortable, just let me know and we'll leave," said Tony.  He actually seemed more anxious than Steve did. Perhaps because the last time Steve had had a panic attack, he'd disappeared for a day with his other Alpha.

Tony stared out the window with a clear expression of concern.  Steve had been correct in assuming that the conference was at a hotel, though it could have just as easily been called a resort, because of its size and obvious amenities.  In the last year that Steve and Tony had spent together, Steve hadn't been in anything less than five stars.

The drive was circular and Happy stopped the SUV behind another car, where a man and girl were getting out.  The man was engaged in a conversation with the valet.

Happy looked into the rearview mirror.  "This is it, boss."

Tony nodded. "Okay.  ...collars on," he said, clearly trying to look nonplussed and failing miserably.

"Hey." Steve put a hand over Tony's. "The same goes to you. These Alphas will be jerks, and they'll actually be talking to you, and not me. So the same goes to you. If you want out. Just say so, and we'll go. None of these asshats are worth either of us getting upset over." Then he leaned over to kiss Tony's forehead, closing his eyes for brief moment.

Tony swallowed and reached around to put the collar on Steve's neck.  The click of the lock was loud enough for both of them to hear.

Tony had made sure that the collar wasn't cold and Steve was eternally grateful for that. The inside was a soft, dark blue suede that sat comfortably against his skin. He only hoped he didn't get sweaty from nerves; then would it kind of gross.

Tony slipped the keys into Steve's pocket, then pulled out his own collar and snapped it on.  Holy cow, he had not realized how damned heavy these things were. Tony rarely wore any jewelry other than a watch and his class ring; wearing a collar was a weird experience.  He put a few fingers under it and moved it around, trying to find a way to keep it from touching the patch on the back of his neck where his hackles were. Once it was settled, he popped on his sunglasses and slid out of the car with Steve.

Steve wasn't sure what to think about Tony in a collar. He didn't really feel anything. The man could wear anything and make it seem natural, especially once the sunglasses were slid into place. They both looked good, regardless of what they wore on their necks.

Steve opened the door and stepped out, offering a hand for Tony to take mainly because he wanted to hold his hand.  Tony took it.  Steve glanced up at the hotel. "Jesus," he muttered, wondering how much Gideon really had spent just trying to make fun of them. "How many people are at this event again?"

In front of them, the car had left; the man and girl had walked inside.

"...I don't know... probably hundreds, maybe even a thousand.  It's a big event," said Tony, unimpressed with the hotel. "Come on, I think those guys in front of us were heading toward registration.  We can just follow them."

They hurried inside the lobby, which was three stories tall and boasted several elaborate fountains.  The man and girl were just disappearing down an escalator; Tony and Steve walked swiftly across the marble floor after them.

Sure enough, they were headed down into a second, smaller lobby; a man at a desk was chatting amiably to another man; the man and girl fell into place behind him.  The man in front of them was wearing a suit; the girl (Tony couldn't bring himself to think of her as a woman; she looked like a high school kid) was in a denim skirt and a t-shirt, looking like she ought to be hanging out at the mall.  She had strawberry-blonde hair that hung down to her shoulders and Tony imagined she looked a bit like Pepper might have at that age. On her neck was a dainty rose-gold chain collar with what looked like emeralds.

She turned to glance at them, then did a double-take at Steve.  Alerted by her movements, the man turned as well.

"Holy-moly, it's _true._  Tony Stark and Steve Rogers," he said.

"In the flesh," confirmed Tony.

The man's eyes roamed from Steve's neck, to Tony's, back to Steve.  But he didn't comment. "...you have a nice flight in?" he asked, with forced casualness.

"Yeah, but I have a private jet, so there ya go," said Tony.

The man laughed, then stuck out a hand.  "I'm Eric."

Tony shook his hand.  He was actually rather interested in meeting this man.  Eric looked... normal. What kind of person would attend these conferences, exactly?  "So, Eric... what brings you to... this thing?"

"I'm a vendor.  A metal-worker, to be exact.  I make collars." He gestured to his omega's neck.

If Steve hadn't known all omegas had to be bonded then he would have honestly assumed that Piper was Eric's daughter, not his...

But when that man had tried to come buy Steve off of his mother he'd only been sixteen. Maybe the man was rich. Maybe he would have taken Steve to events like this one. Who knew.

Tony was immediately impressed.  "You made that?" Tony had a natural reverence toward anyone who worked with metal.

"Sure did.  One of my better pieces, if I do say so myself.  Give him a spin, Piper."

The girl obeyed.

"...that's... actually really cool."

"Thanks.  Means a lot coming from a guy who builds entire suits of armor," said Eric with a smile.  "Oh, excuse me..." The man at the desk had left and Eric walked up, with Piper trailing him.

It was only once they walked away from the desk that Tony realized Piper hadn't said a single word to them.

He stepped up to the desk.  It was manned by a woman who was also an Alpha.  She took one look at Tony and Steve and immediately Tony sensed her hackles rising.

"...name?" she asked, even though she obviously knew who they were.

"...Stark, Anthony, and Rogers, Steven," said Tony, after mentally saying "Simon and Garfunkel," and "Hall and Oates."  He could tell she wasn't happy to see them and he decided to bite back any sarcasm until they had at least gotten into the damned function.

Her frown deepened and she picked up a phone on the desk, dialing.  Tony was pretty sure they would be allowed in; they weren't breaking any rules, yet.  Steve was in a collar, wasn't he? And it was a locking one, so there shouldn't be a problem, right?

"...they're here," she said into the phone, then turned to Tony.  "...omegas can't wear jackets," she said.

"What?"

She pointed to Steve.  "Omegas can't wear jackets."

"...are you serious?  That's a rule? How is that a rule?  What if he gets cold?" demanded Tony, who was pretty sure she was making it up.

"Collars need to be visible at all times," said the woman smugly.

"It's perfectly visible!"

"No jackets."

"Fine, can he check--"

"Coat check is for Alphas only."

Tony could not fucking believe this.  They weren't even in the front door and already they were getting grief.

"But I like my jacket," Steve said with 'genuine' upset (that Tony knew was entirely put on).

The woman at the desk sighed. "It's regulation. I can't do anything about it."

Steve moved to put the collar keys in his waistcoat pocket where they would be safe, then shrugged off his jacket. "There, happy now?" he said and the woman at the desk just moved to write something down. He sighed internally. This was going to be a very long weekend.

A moment later three more Alphas appeared... one of them was Gideon Malick.  He had a smug expression for about two seconds before he saw Tony was wearing a collar.  He stared at Tony with a look of shock. "...take that off, you look ridiculous."

"Hello, Gideon," said Tony pleasantly.  "...oh, _this_?  I can't take it off.  It's locking, you see."

Steve didn't recognize the Alphas either side of Gideon, but both of them were pretty similar to him; stretching middle aged, in slightly too-tight suits and not the best in the looks department. Did Gideon have a mate, he wondered? Steve struggled to imagine someone who wasn't having a miserable time of it.

"The regulations said they had to lock," Steve said with a shrug. Gideon gave him a furious look but said nothing, clearly he didn't want to engage with an _omega_. 

A man to Gideon's right, who was ginger, was staring at Steve with narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry-- is that who I think is?" he asked and Steve wasn't entirely sure who the question was directed at.

"I'm glad you're here, Mr. Stark.  I think you could learn a thing or two, if you keep an open mind," said Gideon, ignoring the man on his right.  "...but let me be clear. If there is any trouble from you, or that breeder of yours, we will not hesitate to take very firm, very strict action.  ...and take off that collar, you're embarrassing yourself."

"I don't have the key," said Tony glibly, which was true.  Steve did.

Malick's voice lowered.  "Just because you're a weak Alpha and an acer doesn't mean you have to act like one, Stark."

Tony's dander went up.  He had only met one acer in his entire life, Sam, and while he liked Sam, being accused of being an Alpha who liked other Alphas hit him hard.  "I'm wearing this collar 'cause I don't have anything to compensate for," said Tony coldly. "I'm bonded to Steve fuckin' Rogers. If that makes me a weak Alpha, then I don't know whose neck I'd have to bite to be considered a strong one."

"He can't go in wearing a collar, can he?" asked the man on Malick's left.

"There's no rule against it," said Tony quickly.  "Alphas can wear necklaces, can't they? So what if mine just _happens_ to match my omega's?

"If he wants to make an ass of himself, let him," said the ginger.  "It's _his_ reputation."

"...fine.  Do whatever you like.  I do highly encourage you to attend some of the workshops, Mr. Stark.  You'll no doubt find some very informative... maybe by the end of the weekend, you'll have a bit more pride in your status," said Malick.

Workshops? Was it like school? Steve didn't know if he could deal with lessons where he was taught how to be a 'good omega'. He'd probably rather die. But if he wanted to hang out with other omegas then maybe it was the way forward...

He spotted a male omega dressed up in hotel uniform and managed to get him to take his jacket to go up to their room.

Gideon wasn't even looking at him anymore. Steve was thoroughly amused, although ginger couldn't stop staring. Maybe he was a fanboy before Steve's true status was revealed.

Gideon nodded to the woman at the desk, giving her the go-ahead to get them registered.  She placed a red wristband on Tony, ignoring Steve completely, and held out a program to him.  Tony stared at it.

"I don't like being handed things," he said after a moment. 

Steve reached out to take it for him.  The woman placed the program on the table, ignoring Steve.  Steve rolled his eyes.  Tony picked up the program, tucked it under his arm, and then gestured grandly. "Steve, lead the way," he said.

All of the Alphas looked mortified that Tony was letting Steve walk in front of him.

"Thanks, dear," Steve told him, voice sweet and proper before he walked in front of Tony and into the main lobby.


	10. Mingling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J. Jameson makes a cameo.

Steve and Tony entered the second lobby of the hotel, looking around curiously, Tony still in his suit and Steve only in a waistcoat.  The room was teeming with Alphas, a splattering of omegas amongst them. Most of the Alphas were male and Steve didn't think there was even one Alpha younger than thirty-five. It was clearly a very specific crowd.

Steve didn't want to face off with Gideon or anything like that. He wanted to simply prove that he was wrong, and shouting at him certainly wouldn't achieve that.  He walked into the crowd, head held high, trying to maintain a quiet sort of dignity.

"What the hell happens now?" Steve murmured into Tony's ear.

"...well, me, I'm gonna go find the bar," muttered Tony back, scanning the crowd.  Mostly older male Alphas. No surprise there. The omegas stood out like sore thumbs; unlike the Alphas, who were all wearing suits, the omegas were in shirtsleeves and waistcoats, sundresses, casual outfits.

Tony noted that not all the wristbands were red.  Some were blue, some were black, some were green. His curiosity was piqued.  He spotted Eric and Piper mingling with another pair, a man and a woman, the woman in a ridiculously ornate collar.  Eric was wearing a green wristband.

"Let's ask Eric," said Tony, nodding toward them.

The crowd in the inner lobby had noticed them and was watching with undisguised interest.  It was hard to say which they found more fascinating: Steve in a collar, or Tony in a collar.  Some looked offended; others were sniggering.

Tony sidled up to Eric.

"--just last June, actually-- oh, hi again!" said Eric, moving aside to make room for Tony.  "Sean, this is the one and only Tony Stark."

"Hiya," said Tony, reaching out to shake Sean's hand.  Sean looked scandalized. He was wearing a red wristband.  "What's with the wristbands?"

"Oh!  Red is bonded, blue is unbonded, green is vendors or supporters, black is presenters or speakers," said Eric.

Tony felt disappointed it was such a simple explanation, and even more disappointed that he hadn't made the connection.

"Well, congratulations again," said Sean to Eric stiffly before edging away.  Clearly, he wanted nothing to do with Tony or Steve. The woman in the collar followed him placidly without looking back.

"...I think you scared him off," said Eric, unnecessarily.

"...what, 'cause I'm wearing a collar?"

"It's pretty weird," admitted Eric.  "...doesn't that rub your hackles the wrong way?  Me, I don't care. I sell collars so it's good business for me.  I _wish_ everyone bought two... double profits!"  Eric laughed.

Tony liked Eric.  Also, Eric was correct; wearing the collar was rubbing his hackles uncomfortably.  But there was nothing he could really do about that. He'd have to try not to get upset; he could only imagine how much worse it would be if his hackles were raised.

Tony flipped open the program to eyeball it.  There were a number of speakers and presentations with incredibly non-specific names.  There was an evening dinner and a keynote brunch, both with entertainers and speakers. One ballroom had been sectioned off and hosted a number of vendors and business tables that were apparently donors or financial backers; another ballroom had been sectioned off for general mingling and included an open bar, which captured Tony's immediate interest.

"Open bar," said Tony, pointing to the map printed in the program.

Eric looked over.  "Oh, yeah, the hospitality suite's always the place to be.  That's where they hold the charity auction, too. Plus there's a little corner for omegas, you know, for them to socialize.  Sometimes I drop Piper off for the day so she can hang out with her little friends, she loves it. Don't you, Pip?"

Piper nodded in silent agreement.

"...charity?" repeated Tony, fascinated.  These people donated to _charity_?  What the hell kind of charity, exactly?  So far, this conference looked like any other fancy conference Tony had ever been to and he was having trouble feeling especially offended.

He passed the program to Steve.

Piper was looking at Steve with undisguised interest. He was the total opposite of her, aside from their hair color. But when he tried to meet her gaze she just stared at the floor. Steve's gut twisted comfortably. Would all the omegas be like this? So-- it felt mean to think it, but-- _boring_? Steve was going to go insane if he was left in an omega play pen for the day full of people like Piper, but that was what he had come here to do.

"Have you been here before?" he asked Piper. She nodded, hands twisting behind her back. "What's it like?"

"Oh you know, it's fun." Yes, she speaks! Piper finally look up at him. "Alphas do their thing. You know how it is."

"No," Steve told her, tone soft despite his words. "I don't."

Piper frowned but didn't say anything more. Steve turned his head down to look at the program.

He glanced up from the program as Eric was asking Tony about his suits, something to do with metal. Whilst Eric wasn't even acknowledging him slightest, he wasn't like Gideon and his chums who were openly hostile.

Speaking of Gideon--

Steve spotted him; now,  the group of three Alphas had two omegas in tow. One was a brunette woman, the other a blond man. He looked tall for an omega, filled out and actually... quite a bit like Steve. He didn't have the insane muscle mass, or the jawline, but he clearly took care of himself. He saw Gideon put his arm around the man's shoulders. It could have been an entirely friendly gesture; it was hard to tell.  Somehow Steve doubted Gideon was casually friendly with omegas, though.

Steve looked over at Tony, then at Eric. He managed to meet the Alpha's eyes directly. "So there's an auction charity?  What do they actually auction off?" he asked.

Eric blinked, clearly a bit surprised at the eye contact.  His eyes went back to Tony's and he answered the question as if Tony had asked it.  "Omegas, obviously."

Tony's eyes widened.  "Holy shit! I mean-- I mean, holy shit, _what_?!"

Eric rolled his eyes.  "Oh, please, it's not like _that_.  Haven't you ever seen a charity auction where you get a date with someone?"

Okay, yes.  Tony had seen that.  In fact, he'd participated in them before.  The whole raffling or auctioning off a date with an eligible bachelor or bachelorette was, technically, legal.

"...where do the omegas come from?" asked Tony.

"Oh, who knows?" said Eric, waving a hand.  "I think, last year, one of them was the step-son of vice president Rodriguez.  Pip, go get me a drink."

"Yes, Daddy," said Piper quickly.  She darted away.

"One for Stark, too!" called Eric after her.  He turned back. "--so, anyway, my issue with adamantium is that the melting point is so damned high that--"

"Wait, wait, the vice president donated his step-son to an omega auction?" repeated Tony, whose head was reeling.

"--yeah, so what?  He's probably here, actually..."

"The vice president?"

"No, no, his step-son.  He was bonded to Chris Bakerfield, if I recall correctly."

"Is that the guy that... that won the auction?"

"No," said Eric.  "Stephanie Li won the auction but I guess she took him out, decided he wasn't her type, and that was that.  Then two months later, Chris bonded him. I think that omega was already friends with Chris's omega, Sunshine, so it worked out nicely."

Tony was lost.  So the step-son was in a trio?  Also, what the fuck kind of name was Sunshine?  It sounded like a cheap stripper.

"So-- so Stephanie won a date with him?"

"Right, but then didn't like his smell, so she sold him to Chris."

Tony was horrified all over again.  "Did you say sold?"

"Introduced."

"--you said sold."

"I meant introduced."

Tony reached up to scratch under his collar.  His plan to not raise his hackles was failing.  Rising hackles, like getting an erection, was often unintentional and it wasn't necessarily caused by anger.  General discomfort or nervousness could also prompt it. Right now, Tony was feeling extremely uncomfortable.

He looked around and spotted Malick, who was chatting with a tall, dark-haired woman.  There was a blond by his side. Tony blinked; the blond looked remarkably like Steve, if Steve weren't all 'roided up.  That only made the hackle situation worse. Tony wished he'd gelled down his neck; every time the hair rose, the collar pushed it into his neck, giving him an itchy, prickly sensation that was thoroughly unpleasant.  In retrospect, they probably should have tried wearing collars before this, as a test-run; Tony was pretty sure he was going to end up with a rash by the end of the weekend.

"I'm sorry, _what_? I thought this was the twenty-first century, not the forties," Steve said. "Are you _serious_? Like actually serious?"

Eric gave him a sympathetic look, like Steve was some kind of child who'd just been told that Santa Claus wasn't real. Steve was trying to repress his anger, which he knew Tony could feel.

He felt like he'd just walked back in time. It was insane.

He watched Piper dance away to the bar. She skipped like a school girl. And did she just call him _Daddy_?

He reached out to take Tony's hand because he couldn't not. He needed to feel grounded. His heart was in his throat. Steve must have looked deadly in that moment. He looked ready to tear the place down.

Steve needed to change the subject. "Do you think that guy who looks like me is Gideon's mate?"

Tony took Steve's hand and clung to it.  He was feeling thoroughly creeped out.

"...I dunno... I think so..." said Tony, turning to look at Malick.  Malick had a hand on the small of the other man's back. "...he doesn't look that much like you, though... I mean... he's blond, but that's like, half of all omegas, right?"  The omega turned suddenly. The resemblance was undeniable; the man looked like he could've been Steve's brother. Tony cringed. "...I'm sure that's just a coincidence." He was mostly saying that for Steve's benefit.  He didn't want to think that Steve might be Malick's "type," although it would explain a lot of the hostility that Malick seemed to harbor against Steve.

Tony tried to change the topic again.  "...will they serve Piper alcohol? She seems... you know... young," said Tony.

"Well, obviously, it's not for her," said Eric.

"...obviously," said Tony dryly.  Were omegas also not allowed to drink?  It was like he was on another planet. Was this what it was like for Steve in the forties, being ignored, treated like a pet or a piece of furniture?  "So... the vice president..."

"A beta, so obviously, he can't attend.  But he's sympathetic to our organization," said Eric.  "Mind you, we get a bad rep from status extremists, like Status Alliance-- I know, I know Steve had friends there, I'm not saying they're all bad, just that they don't really portray us well, and the truth is, we do a lot of good work, donate to a lot of charities and provide education for omegas.  I don't think there's anything wrong with people who choose to live their lives a different way. Ask any omega here... they're _happy._ "

Piper showed up with two drinks; she offered one to Eric and one to Tony.  Red wine. Tony sipped; it was a Merlot with a dry finish. Not bad.

"Okay.  Piper. Are you happy?" asked Tony.

Piper looked positively alarmed at being spoken to by Tony; she shrank back a little, pressing into Eric's arm.

"You can answer," said Eric.

"Yes," said Piper.  Tony looked at her wrist; she had on several bracelets made of braided embroidery thread, like something a kid would make at summer camp.

"Just because you feed a dog and treat it well, doesn't mean you're not abusing it if you kick it once a day," Steve stated, his voice set and Eric looked mildly horrified. He clearly wasn't someone who wanted to go up against Steve. He was trying his best to be polite. Piper looked confused, like she didn't get it.

"How old are you, exactly?" asked Tony.

"Piper's turning eighteen next April."

Tony's skin prickled.  Piper was seventeen? Eric looked like he was in his late thirties.

"How... how did you guys meet?"

"Sean introduced us," said Eric.  He pointed. "There's Sean over there.  See that collar on his omega? I made that."

"You guys met last year, I'm guessing," said Tony.

"Yes, I was just telling Sean-- I haven't seen him since last year's conference-- we got bonded in June, so we're coming up on one year.  How 'bout that, Piper?"

Piper smiled, a gesture that seemed automatic rather than sincere.  As if she just smiled every time Eric spoke to her. Tony found Piper to be extremely unsettling, both because of her age and because of her weird Stepford-wife vibe.  Also, Tony was feeling a lot more awkward around Eric. Sure, Tony had slept with his fair share of girls younger than him, but Piper was very distinctively a _kid._  Tony slept with women who were women.  Piper may have been nearly eighteen but she still would have probably gotten carded trying to get into a rated R movie.

"A man tried to buy me when I was nearly seventeen. He was about your age," Steve told him.

"...you know, you really ought to control him better," said Eric to Tony.  Even without their bond, Tony would have been able to tell at a glance that Steve was ready to lose it.

"Well.... yeah," said Tony awkwardly.  "I'm gonna go... over there now. Nice to meet you guys."  He tugged Steve's hand. He need to get the fuck away from this couple.

Steve wasn't shaking or anything like that. He looked perfectly calm. But there was a fire in his eyes.

He let Tony pull away when he said good bye, their hands still together. Tony holding his hand was about the only thing stopping Steve from punching a wall. "We won't be able to afford to buy everyone at the auction," he murmured. "People here are stinking rich. But...but we could try and protect the youngest." Steve cringed when he realised those would also be the most expensive.

"Do they think there's anyone here who isn't living in the past?" Steve asked, squeezing Tony's hand. The crowd was all made of the same make up. He'd quite like a drink himself, but maybe they wouldn't serve him one

An omega who looked like a waiter passed by them. "Hey," Steve asked them. "Can I get a drink?"

"Well, technically, you're not allowed... Captain." The waiter looked about twenty; dark hair flopped over his face. "But I'm sure I can bring you some ' _lemonade_.'" There was a glint in his eyes.

Steve smiled and nodded. "Thank you. That's very kind."

"Fuck," whispered Tony to Steve as the waiter vanished.  "...this is so fucking surreal. ...I'm gonna need something stronger than wine.  ...Piper looked like she was like, fifteen." He reached up to scratch at his collar again.  Steve's comment about "protecting the youngest" gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was like they were on a sinking ship without enough lifeboats.  "...I'm worth like twelve billion... I could probably buy them all..." he said. Depending on how many there were, and how much they went for.

And then what?  Did he just... release them into the wild or something?  What if he ended up with a dozen teenage omegas?

He rubbed his neck vigorously.  The collar, pressing into his raised hackles, felt like little needles.

Steve turned to face Tony. He didn't want to face the room. He had spotted Malick and his companion who looked like Steve; they were moving over towards the bar and in the process would go past them.

Before Steve could warn Tony the waiter had appeared with his drink. It certainly looked like lemonade. "There you go, Captain."  The waiter smiled and handed him the glass.

Steve nodded in thanks. It certainly didn't _taste_ of lemonade. "Thank you, that's very kind..."

"Hope you have a good weekend," the boy nodded and then parted with a wink.

Tony looked up sharply, sensing another presence; Malick had wandered over, trailed by the blond.  "Malick alert," he said hastily.

Steve downed all of his 'lemonade' before Gideon came over, in preparation. He set the glass down on a pausing tray with canapés and exhaled slowly. Okay. It was time to be _better_ , he reminded himself, not to stoop to their level.

"You know, if it's really uncomfortable, you could take if off for a little--" he began

Then he was cut off my Malick approaching. Typical.

"How's that collar?" asked Malick, a hint of viciousness in his voice, and Tony realized how obvious his discomfort must be.

"...it's... equalizing," said Tony.

"How nice.  I thought I might as well introduce you to my omega, Donner."

The omega gave them a tight smile and a nod, but he didn't look Tony in the eyes.  Tony realized Piper had done the same. None of the omegas here ever made eye contact.

"Donner's rather attractive, isn't he?" said Malick.  Aw, fuck. So he'd noticed the resemblance to Steve as well.

"I find confidence to be one of the most attractive traits in any person, regardless of status," said Tony petulantly.

"Nice to meet you Donner," Steve said with an impressive degree of cheerfulness. He thought about offering a hand to shake but he didn't want Donner to get in trouble with Gideon. It wasn't his intention to make anyone's situation worse.

"I think it's someone's personality that dictates how attractive they really are," Steve said. "Us omegas are more than our appearance, after all." Gideon totally ignored him.  Steve tried again.  "You know, when Nazis are shooting at you... they don't really care what you look like."

Donner looked up at that.

"...personally, I don't think omegas should really be allowed to serve in the army at all," said Malick breezily, looking at Tony.  "...they weren't, in Steve's day. I supposed they made an exception because of his... unique circumstances. But I suppose you think _I'm_ the backwards one for not wanting my omega to be shot at by Nazis?"

"If I hadn't been allowed in the army then history might have played out differently," Steve pointed out coolly. He didn't usually blow his own trumpet. But Steve had potentially saved a lot of people but from a lot of bad things happening to them. Who knew what would have happened if Schmidt was allowed to carried on? Would someone else have stopped him?

"...I think omegas should _choose_ whether or not they want to be... shot at by Nazis," said Tony haltingly, realizing immediately after he said it how stupid he sounded.  Oh, boy. He was drowning.

He was searching for an excuse to leave when suddenly another man showed up, trailed by two excited-looking women in collars.

"Hi, Mr. Stark?  John Jameson." The man stuck a hand out.  He was extremely dominant; he had a brash New York accent, Queens, Tony suspected.  He had a mustache and pepper-grey hair cut in a style that implied he might, at some point, have been a marine.  There was an unlit cigar in his mouth and, between that and the mustache, Tony was strongly reminded of his father, even though they didn't look very similar.  Maybe it was the dominance thing. John's aura shut both Tony and Malick down in an instant. His was a incredibly powerful, aggressive bearing. "My girls here wanted to meet your omega.  They're fans."

The two omegas behind him were giggling all over each other.

"Oh.  Oh! Yeah!  Right!" said Tony, grateful for the excuse.  "Steve, look. Fans."

"This one's Joan, and this here is Maria," said John.

"...they're _fans_?" repeated Malick, who obviously felt Steve was an awful role model.

"Sure!  They love him!" said John.  He was almost shouting. Nearly every sentence he said with a sort of aggressive enthusiasm.

Joan had sidled up to Steve and was blushing madly.  "Can I feel your biceps?" she asked. She and Maria both touched Steve's arms, giggling like schoolgirls even though they were closer to Tony's age than Steve's.

"...you don't think they might... get ideas?" asked Malick.

"What, like growing some muscle?  HA!" shouted John. "No, they're good girls, and I like an omega with a bit of spunk!  Good for you, Stark! He's a keeper!"

Tony smirked.  Malick looked sour that John inexplicably approved of Steve.

"You know what you should do?  You should do an interview for _Now_ magazine.  Have you heard of _Now_?  I'm one of the editors!  And publishers! Those photo shoots he did, they were fantastic!  That one of him reading the magazine about him liking sex? HA! That was great!  Fantastic! Here's my card!" shouted John, handing Tony a card.

"...uh... yeah, maybe... maybe, if Steve wanted to..." said Tony weakly, overwhelmed by John's yelling.  Steve was still being practically felt up by John's two omegas.

John was friendly and all but he referred to Steve as Tony's omega, which the blond wasn't all that fond of.

Steve almost jumped when both the girls essentially began feeling him up. Maria squeezed his arm and Joan put a hand on his chest. "Oh my! It's _so_ firm--"

Steve was blushed terribly and suddenly very uncomfortable in a total different way as he had no idea what to do with himself. "You're so big." Maria smiled, wide eyed as she stared up at him. "Are you bigger, you know..."

Steve turned bright pink. "Er..."

"So when are you two going to have whelps?  Can he have whelps or did the serum ruin that?" shouted John.

"Didn't you see the last interview?" said Malick.

"No!  I only read my own publications!"

"But you just said you liked the photo shoot from Steve's second interview," said Tony.

"That was different!  I got a copy from one of the omegas in my office!  Another fan of yours, Captain! Laziest kid I've ever met! Affirmative action is ruining this country!"

Malick and Tony exchanged a look.  They were finally united by their complete and total discomfort in the presence of this very loud, dominant, and opinionated man.

"--but he's a nice kid!  And good looking! Which I why I keep him on!  Wants to be a photojournalist!  Maybe if you came in for an interview he'd actually take some photos worth publishing for once!" shouted John.

"...yeah... sounds good," said Tony, tucking the card away, still trying to get over being shouted at.  Tony rarely lacked confidence, but John was like a living embodiment of a bulldozer. Tony wondered if the omega who worked for him was eventually going to get shouted to death.  Maybe he was used to it; Joan and Maria were clearly immune. They were beaming at Steve; Maria was asking Steve if he would be willing to pick the two of them up for a picture.

Donner reached out tentatively and tugged Malick's sleeve.  "...can _I_ touch his arms?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

Malick's hackles rose and he excused the two of them, hooking his fingers into Donner's collar and yanking him away.  Donner cast a regretful look over his shoulder at Steve.

"See that? _That's_ a man who's got some insecurities," said John loudly, obviously not the slightly bit worried about being overheard.  "Girls, you want a picture with Captain America?"

Joan and Maria were both beaming.  Tony couldn't help but feel a bit jealous.  He sometimes forgot about how buff Steve was, how good-looking.  Tony was used to being fawned over, but the two Jameson omegas barely seemed to notice him.  On the bright side, John being so friendly with them had clearly impressed everyone in the immediate vicinity and they were getting a lot less glares from Alphas.  Some of the omegas were watching Steve with interest, clearly a bit more relaxed now that Joan and Maria had broken the ice. Plus, Malick had stormed off. Tony would take giggling Captain America fans over Malick's malice any day.

Steve was aware that John was shouting about something to do with photographs and interviews but wasn't really paying attention to him. His two mates were taking up all of Steve's current attention. He was busy keeping their hands above the belt.

"What's it like being with Tony Stark? He good in bed?" Joan asked bluntly, her voice still awfully sweet. Steve gently moved their hands away.

"I mean--"

"Photo!" John punctuated, pulling out a mobile that was one of the latest on the market. Steve frowned as he spotted Gideon and Donner a ways off. It looked like he'd gotten Donner in trouble. Shit. Now Steve felt bad.

The photo was awkwardly taken with John's two very own omegas plastered up against Steve. It was all very unusual. Steve didn't really know what the protocol was here.

Joan rushed up to Tony, blonde hair falling around her shoulders. She giggled sweetly. "Can we hang out with him sometime?"

"I think they should!" shouted John.  "What do you say, Stark? How about an omega playdate?  The girls love him!"

"Wow, you know what, look at my wrist," said Tony, trying to look at his watch and realizing he wasn't wearing one.  "How about I have my people talk to your people and we'll.... talk later? C'mon, Steve!"

He grabbed Steve by his shirtsleeve and dragged him away from the trio.

"Holy _fuck_!" he managed.  "Are you okay?"

He had to admit... he liked Joan.  She was pretty. A bit old, but very, very pretty.

"I need a drink.  C'mon, let's check out the bar... maybe we can get some more info on that auction.. they said it was in the same room, right?  Here, you take the program... I feel like I'm on drugs..." said Tony, reaching up to aggressively scratch at the back of his neck.  He couldn't wait to take the collar off. Equality aside, he could practically feel his own hackles digging into his skin. He was starting to regret coming here.  Even the friendly people, the "allies," like John and Eric, made his skin crawl. "...do you think... do you think Joan and Maria are okay? They seemed happy... can we find a way to talk to Piper?  ...why's all the omegas got such weird names? Wasn't Donner a reindeer?" asked Tony. Come to think of it, lots of omegas had weird names, like Kitty and Sunshine. Were those their actual names or...?

Or what?

"...do people re-name omegas?" asked Tony suddenly.

There was a couple right next to them; the man turned.  "Yes, obviously," he said.

Tony blinked.  "...that's a thing?"  Fuck. Now he was wondering all sorts of things.  Was Clint Clint's real name? What about Jarvis?  Had his name really been Edwin or had he previously been a Michael or something?

"Yes, after they're bonded.  This is Vixen," he said, gesturing toward an omega who was holding his program and drink for him, standing rigidly, eyes unfocused.  Like a mannequin.

"...also a reindeer name," said Tony, wisely.  As a child, he had thought Nixon was a reindeer because that's how his father had read it.

"A vixen is a female fox," said the man.  "And Vixen is my foxy female. Get it?" He smiled.  Vixen smiled, too.

Tony's skin crawled, not just from Vixen's vapid smile, but from the memory of him calling Steve "Sparky."

"C'mon, Steve," he said quietly, dragging Steve off toward the bar, hoping no one would talk to them on the way.  Clearly this had been a terrible, terrible idea.

"I just...I can't believe all the omegas in here are happy with this. I mean, I'm not saying they're sad," Steve sighed as he leaned against the bar. "But what if they've never known anything else, been given another option? You wouldn't be sad if a rich Alpha took you in if that's what you always expected to happen, would you? This is just crazy. It's like they're all living on some different planet where omegas aren't people anymore."

The man pouring Tony's drink paused and the continued, saying nothing.

"I don't know if I can make any sort of point here, Tony," he groaned. "I don't think anyone here will listen to me. And what right do I have to come along and say they're all living their lives wrong, and are being oppressed? I don't. Everyone has individual situations."

He paused for a moment, reflecting.  "Although the auction thing, they can't say that's not fucked up."

Steve opened the program. "The auction isn't until tomorrow night, least there's that... but there's dinners tonight. I'm not gonna be put on some omega table, am I? I might die from boredom. It's like they don't even have _personalities_." He thought back to Joan and Maria. "Or they low-key want to sleep with me. Jesus Christ."

The waiter with the flop of brown hair appeared and wordlessly pushed a whiskey over to Steve before walking away. He downed it before anyone could notice it. Least someone was on Steve's side.

He watched Tony with his concern. His mate was clearly uncomfortable. "Hey, Tony, maybe take the collar off for a minute. You don't want to make your neck all sore," Steve said, a hand on his arm.

"No," said Tony, sharper than he meant to.  "...no," he repeated, quieter. "If I take this thing off, even for a second, it'll totally undermine what we're trying to communicate.  ...it's fine. Really. It's just rubbing my hackles. It's not so bad, if I keep them down." Tony hoped he sounded convincing. He had no control over his hackles, not really.

He waved to the bartender for a whiskey.  He needed it. Desperately

"...you know, people wanting to sleep with you isn't a bad thing," said Tony, taking a shot and immediately gesturing for another.  "Just... throwing this out there... if you wanted a threesome I would be very, very down for a threesome. Shit, is that--"

"TONY!" shouted someone; a moment later, Tony was being yanked into a large bear hug.  "My God, I heard you were here but I didn't believe-- _are you wearing a collar_?"

"Hi, Dan," said Tony.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._  He should have known there would be board members here.  Dan Rabinowitz was one of the senior executives of Stark Industries.

"...why the hell are you wearing a collar?"

"I dunno, I'm... I'm making a statement, I think," mumbled Tony, waving to the bartender again.

"What statement?  You look like an idiot," said Dan frankly.  "Hello, Steve," he added breezily, as if acknowledging Tony had brought along a dog or something.

"...you know... equality... fuck, man, I don't know," said Tony, who had managed to get the bartender to leave the bottle of whiskey and was drinking from it like a man dying from thirst.

"...I didn't think you and him would ever show up for a conference like this.  Oh! This is Shimmer, my omega."

"What's her real name?"

"...what?"

"What's her real name?" repeated Tony, tone icy.

Shimmer's smile wavered a little.  "...Charlotte," she said softly. Neither Tony nor Dan heard.

"It's nice to meet you Charlotte," Steve told her when the two Alphas clearly weren't listening. Charlotte's whole face lit up at that. She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled at him.

"It's nice to meet you too... Mr. Rogers.  I mean, Capt--"

"Please, just call me Steve."

"...hey, are you doing okay, Tony?" asked Dan.  He looked and sounded genuinely worried. "I know March is a bad time for you..."

"No, no, I'm great.  I'm fine," insisted Tony.  "It's just that... Dan, what the hell?  ...I didn't know you were into this shit."

"It's not shit," replied Dan, a bit defensively.  "Alpha organizations exist to protect omegas. They're not all like Steve, Tony.  Most of the omegas here got rescued from really shitty situations. And Alphas United funds a lot of pro-omega programs.  Education, technical and vocational training, reassignment--"

"What?"

"What?"

"What did you say?  Reassignment?" repeated Tony.

"...yeah, you know, conversion therap--"

"You're fired."

Dan stared; Tony stared back.  For a moment everything was frozen.

"...you can't fire me!"

"Yeah, I totally can, I just did, you're fired, Dan.  Fuck off," said Tony, hunching over the bar.

"...hope you like lawsuits, Stark.  I'm going to sue your fucking collar off."

"Yeah?   _Good!_  See you in court, asshole!" spat Tony.  His hackles were spiking again. _Fuck._  He threw back the bottle, hoping to numb the intense itching from the collar.  Equality aside, he now realized why Alphas never wore necklaces or turtlenecks.  He'd never appreciated how sensitive his hackles were until something was pressing against them.  It was agony.

Steve watched, awestruck, as Dan marched away.  Had Tony just _fired_ him?  Charlotte hesitated. She looked between Tony, Steve and her disappearing mate.

"I should probably go after him," she said apologetically and then slunk away. Steve noticed that she didn't head towards Dan's direction. Maybe he wasn't nice when he was angry. Lots of peoples' heads had turned, most of them watching a furious Dan march away. Steve struggled to hide the smile on his face.

Steve turned to look at Tony. "That was amazing," he breathed. "Was that over... like, did he say he supported camps and shit?"

And Tony had just fired him. On the spot. In the middle of a conference. _Amazing_. Steve felt a strange need to kiss him. 

So he did, on the mouth. It was brief but it meant something. Steve's heart as beating really fast in chest. "Amazing. I mean it."

"Yeah, well-- I can't let down Ty again," muttered Tony, toying with his empty tumbler.

"Let's just go find somewhere to sit down for a minute; all these crowds are doing my head in," Steve said and reached down to take Tony's hand.

They weaved through and found a sofa in a quieter corner of the room, but just as they sat down, someone approached them.

Steve blinked. It was Piper from before, but there was no Eric in sight. She didn't look at Tony, just Steve.

"Can I sit?"

Steve sat up. "Of course."

She looked nervous. "Was... was what you said true, about someone trying to buy you?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "I mean, it was the forties."

"Someone bought my sister," Piper whispered. "I haven't seen her for three years."

Steve's face fell.

Piper suddenly looked afraid, like she'd down something wrong. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here. He'll get annoyed. I should go. I'm supposed to be getting him a drink."

It turned out, not around her Alpha, Piper spoke plenty. Or maybe she just felt comfortable enough to around Tony and Steve.

"Hey," Steve said. "Give me your phone. I'll be two secs."

She handed it over. He put his number into it. "I know people who could find her in a matter of minutes. Call me when you get the chance.  Her name, her birthplace, all that.  I can locate her for you."

Piper nodded and then she rushed away.

Tony looked sulkily over the crowd.  "...Dan really is gonna sue me. I don't think I can legally fire him for that... Pepper's gonna be mad," said Tony morosely. He gave Steve a sideways glance.  "I didn't know people renamed their omegas. I'm sorry I called you Sparky when we first met. I was just being a dick."

"I didn't even remember that until you mentioned it just now," Steve assured him and leaned into Tony's side, their shoulders pressed together. It felt like they were on the outside, looking in, the crowd of Alphas chatting away and entirely oblivious to them. "Even if you can't fire him, at least you ruined his dumb weekend," he pointed out.

Tony reached for Steve's hand, found it, and threaded their hands together.

Steve squeezed his hand back, a reassurance.  They were going to get through this, together. 


	11. The Lucky Ones

Sitting on one of the plush loveseats in the lobby, Tony held Steve's hand in his and flipped through the program with his other, trying to feign interest. "I think we oughta just call it a day and maybe hit up one of the Jameson omegas, see if they wanna have a threesome," joked Tony weakly.

"Threesomes sound stressful. Someone's always going to be left out."  
  
Steve wondered how Natasha, Clint and Laura... his brain mercifully didn't conjure up the mental image. Steve wasn't sure he could have coped with that.  
  
Tony rolled his eyes. "I was just kidding.  And no one gets left out.  If you do it right."  He squeezed Steve's hand, scanning the room.  "...you wanna go to any of the little workshops?  I could learn to, um, discipline you."  Tony gave another small roll of his eyes.  "Fuck, this whole thing is creepy... hey, maybe you ought to try to talk to the omegas here, away from their Alphas. Maybe. I don't want to get any of them in trouble. Did you see how Malick dragged Donner around?"

"I could go to their little omega corner thing. Maybe. I don't want to get them in trouble though; this is so tricky." Steve sighed and leaned his head on Tony's shoulder. "Least we know why Malick hates me so much," he mumbled bemusedly.  "You may as well go to some of the stuff. It's really important that we can do interviews about this afterwards and talk about our experiences; the same goes for you Tony," Steve said softly. "This doesn't just hurt omegas. This perpetuates a type of Alpha lifestyle which prevents them from having legitimate relationships and just feeds into anxieties."

"Sure," agreed Tony, scratching his neck.

"Do you...do you think we could find out where they're keeping the omegas who are going to be put on auction?"

"...yeah... they gotta keep them somewhere," said Tony, frowning and looking around the room.  Would they be holed up in a separate room somewhere? Who would he even ask about that? "...I could ask Eric," he suggested.  "...I think only Alphas can go to the little workshops and presentations... are you going to be okay if I leave you alone? The omegas here seem..."

Tony trailed off.  He didn't want to say "dull," but that's what they were.  They were dull beyond all reason. Some of them had probably been raised since childhood to be that way, agreeable and compliant and unopinionated... a perfect blank slate for their future Alphas.

"Do you have your phone?  Is it charged? I can always come get you if I have to," said Tony.

He was starting to warm up to the idea of going to a workshop, if only so that he could take off his collar and air the back of his neck for an hour.

"I have my phone. Fully charged," Steve promised him and sat up a little. He pulled his phone out and checked. Yep. 99% percent. That was partly why Steve was so bad at charging his phone. Because it was StarkTech it didn't need charging often, which meant he basically always forgot to when it actually finally died.  "I'll survive. Promise. Besides, no one in here even looks at me anyway...I doubt I'll have a problem getting around," Steve said. Back when he was smaller too he could have literally snuck into anywhere unnoticed. Once a local gang had tried to recruit him for smuggling purposes. Bucky had been furious; Steve had thought it was a lark.

"You go explore," Steve told his mate, and squeezed his hand, kissing his cheek for good measure. "I'll go see if there's any omegas worth talking to in here. And if you find out where they're keeping them for the auction, let me know."

"I'll ask around," said Tony, squeezing Steve's hand back.  "Well, c'mon, let's get you situated..."

There was a roped-off corner of the room where omegas were mingling, chatting casually and sipping drinks and lounging on couches.  None of them looked sad to be there but maybe that was just because they didn't know any better. Tony led Steve over and saw the only beta he had seen at the entire convention.

"Dropping him off?" asked the beta, nodding to Steve.

"...yeah," said Tony uncomfortably.  He took the program from Steve. He had a few places he wanted to check out, including the hall with all the vendors and sponsors.  Tony wasn't going to do business with anyone who supported this bullshit; he was going to draw up a list and fire everyone he could from Stark, Industries.  "...see you in an hour or two, Steve." He nuzzled Steve's ear and let go of his hand, hoping Steve wouldn't feel too bored or trapped.

"See you," Steve murmured. The massive crowd of omegas honestly intimidated him more than any of the Alphas in here, mostly because he cared what they actually thought of him. He swallowed and stepped into the mix, heading to the bar in the corner because that felt most natural. Barely any of the drinks were alcoholic and there was nothing stronger than Riesling wine; even the glass sizes were small.

Steve just got water. Then he turned back to the mass of omegas and felt lost all over again.

"I'm sorry, are you... who I think you are?" He turned his head to see a small ginger woman. She was petite, her hair done in a bob and block fringe. 'Cute' was the first word that came to mind. She didn't look older than twenty.

"Depends," Steve said. "Who do you think I am?"

"Erm, Captain America?" She wasn't shy like Piper or Charlotte but she was still reserved. She looked at Steve's face when she spoke to him but kept her gaze on the floor the rest of the time. It looked like a learned behaviour. "I just-- I didn't think this would be your kind of scene."

"It isn't," Steve admitted. "Someone sent the tickets to make fun of me."

She almost smiled. "My name is Haley. My friends call me Hal."

"Call me Steve. You're like one of the first omegas in here who’s actually spoken to me," Steve said. "What is up with that?"

"Everyone's probably a bit scared of you," Haley shrugged and sucked her coke through her straw. "You know, most Alphas in here... they're threatened by you. Mine isn't. She thinks you're cool."

"But she goes to events like... this?" Steve was confused.

"Well, her work likes her here. She's the only Alpha on the board and they want to 'network'," Haley said. "You want to sit? I'll introduce you to some people I know..."

Relief washed over Steve.  He had been hoping for someone to do this, introduce him to other omegas.  He followed her, glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the lobby, curious as to where Tony was.  He wasn't at all surprised to see him hunched over at the bar.

Tony had made a beeline for the bar the moment Steve was inside the omega-only area.  He got a whiskey and then fiddled with his collar, realizing, unhappily, that Steve was in possession of the keys.

He sighed, throwing back his whiskey and ordering a second before wandered off toward the central area of the lobby.

"Hey!  Tony!"

He turned.  Eric was waving to him.

"...hey Eric."

"Did you drop off your omega?"

"Uh-huh.  Figured I might as well attend one of these, uh, workshop deals," said Tony, squinting at the program.

"I'll come with you!  Let me just drop off Pip.  C'mon, babe." Eric disappeared.  Tony put his fingers under his collar to scratch desperately at his neck.

Eric returned and Tony stopped scratching.  "So... what do you recommend?" asked Tony.

"For you?  Or in general?  I mean, they had workshops for guys like you, you know, with unruly omegas."

"...yeah?  ...maybe I should check that out," said Tony.

"In the afternoon there's one titled Dominance in Business and that might be good, too, you being a business guy and all..."

Tony was already circling them.  Dirt, dirt, dirt. Yes, this was all perfect.

"Hey, Eric... if I were to, say... want another omega... maybe one that's more, you know, _tame_ than Steve... someone like Piper... where would I go?  I mean, surely you get to check out the goods before they auction them off, right?" asked Tony.

"They pop 'em in the omega pen in the hospitality suite tomorrow so you can look them over," Eric reassured him.

Tony nodded, trying to look interested instead of disgusted.

If those omegas were going to be in the omega-only area, Steve would have access, at least.  That was good.  Idly, Tony wondered how he was getting along...

Just fine, as it turned out.  Steve had been taken under Hal's wing and was feeling far less self-conscious than he had before, although he was still well-aware that he was head and shoulders taller tan every other omega there.

All of Hal's friends were young like her. The oldest looked to be twenty-five (sort of Steve's age). There was a dark haired guy with a weirdly neat mustache called Fred. A brunette women named Abigail, or 'Abby,' and a blonde women called Lola. All the names sounded fairly real. But it didn't surprise Steve that Hal had a more down to earth group of friends who had less insanely controlling Alphas. He noticed none of them wore especially elaborate collars, and that Hal's and Abby's were just made out of leather despite having locks on the back. They looked light and unimposing. These were the kind of omegas Steve could talk to, but not the ones who really needed his help.

"You fought Nazis? Dude. That's so cool." Lola said 'dude' a lot and was drinking through pints of pineapple juice. Apparently the waiter put shots of vodka in the glasses for her because she'd gotten with him once in high school; they went way back and, according to Lola, might have gotten married if she hadn't ended up bonded.  Lola was in denim shorts and a plaid shirt and seemed the epitome of laid back.

Some of the other omegas, who were properly dressed and had heavier collars, were watching them with disdain. They clearly didn't approved of Lola's dirty Converse shoes up on the table.

"I must say, I'm surprised you put on a collar. But then I suppose they wouldn't have let you in otherwise," Fred said. His collar was engraved with ivy. It was almost pretty, if Steve could forget what it was.

"Tony's wearing one too. So it's like...equal."

Hal blinked. "Wow. I thought _my_ Alpha was good but she would _never_ do that."

Something warmed in his chest. Steve knew people had certain... preconceptions of Tony, and it was nice to feel like he was breaking them.

"What happens with the auction?"

Abby pulled a face. "Oh the whole thing is gross. They say it's just for a _date_ , but everyone knows you have to put out."

"Sometimes they even get mated," Hal whispered conspiratorially.

"But they're there... by choice?"

"Technically," Fred said. "But they all think they'll do better by it, you know? In this world you have to be  mated to get places."

"So they sell themselves," Steve said, horrified. "How... how many do it?"

"About twenty every year," Lola shrugged, slurping down more pineapple juice. "I try to avoid it. I don't like watching. It can get pretty vicious." 

"They also say whether they're virgins or not," Abby added.

Steve ran a hand over his face. " _How_ is that legal..."

And then he spotted him, Donner, at the other end of the 'pen.' He stood. "Hey, I'll be back in a minute..."

Steve needed to apologize.

Donner spotted Steve approaching him and looked around with a look of panic, like a gazelle that just realized it had been singled out of the herd by a leopard.  He shrank back against the wall, eyes still scanning the room, and it became obvious what he was looking for: Gideon.

Beside him was a women in a gold-and-pearl collar who was in the middle of a story; she broke off when she spotted Steve and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.  She edged away a little, as if Steve were carrying something contagious.

Across the room, a small crowd of men in suits and women in evening gowns had gathered around two omegas that they'd instructed to fight; one was thoroughly thrashing the other, ruthlessly throttling the man he'd been standing by pleasantly only moments earlier.  The man with his hands around the other's throat was looking up for instructions, looking hopelessly torn between obeying and not killing his maybe-friend.

"Looks like Waffles is getting creamed," observed one of the omegas mildly.

"DeSoto's really nice, once to get to know him.  His Alpha just likes a bit of sport, that's all."

"Wouldn't want to be Waffles right now."

Donner pressed into a corner, look too nervous at Steve's approach to even register the fight.

Steve felt bad as he walked over and saw Donner begin to squirm. He was just going to make things worse again. Oh, God. He sighed internally. Why was Donner afraid of _him_ when he had that asshole for a mate?

Steve stopped when he saw the fight, his eyes widening. "What the hell is happening?"

"Oh, they're just fighting," an omega to his right shrugged; he held a small glass of white wine. "Some Alphas like to make bets. I doubt they'll let someone like you fight..." He laughed, like he'd just made a joke.

Steve thought he might be sick. "Right," he said, and pulled away. He got out his phone to text Tony quickly.

_ > They're making them fight! _

_ > They take bets!_

_ > They're making who fight, the auction guys? _ texted Tony, confused as to what Steve was talking about.  He was sitting in a conference room listening to a man calmly explain why suppressants were morally repugnant.  So far, Tony had, as Malick had promised, learned a lot, including such topics as breaking in recently bonded omegas and the process of conversion therapy for those unfortunate enough to have omega offspring.  Tony couldn't help but notice how careful they were with their words. There was no talk, for example, of arranged bonding, because it was illegal. But you didn't have to be a genius to know that "breaking in" an omega wasn't something you'd have to do if it _wasn't_ arranged.

_ > Omegas. They're making their omegas fight each other. _

> _Listen, don't get involved, don't be a hero.  You'll only make things worse._

Steve hated knowing that Tony's advice was probably right.

_ > I'm guessing if I try and step in, I'll get kicked out. _

Steve took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was here to make big changes, not small ones, and getting kicked out wasn't something he wanted.  At least not before he got to talk to the omegas who were being auctioned.

Then he stopped in front of Donner, who looked like he thought Steve was about to eat him alive. Oh dear. "I wanted to apologise for earlier," Steve said. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

Donner shook his head, not speaking.

"Look, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. So if you want to just go now, I will..."

Donner scanned the room again before answering.  He gave Steve a tiny, nervous smile. "It's okay.  It's not-- not your fault," he said, his voice quiet and guarded.   He had a halting way of talking; it was unclear whether it was a neurological issue, like a stutter, or psychological, caused only by anxiety. "I know Gideon doesn't-- doesn't want me to-- it's okay."  He gave an anxious laugh. "Gideon really likes you. He-- he talks about you all the time. Not-- not all bad stuff. He likes the way you look. He says if you were-- were with a better Alpha, you'd probably be a perfect omega.  He says-- says the Starks ruined you but-- but that you're still really-- really a great specimen." Donner ducked his head a little. "B-before you were unfrozen everyone th-thought you were an Alpha and everyone used to say I looked like Captain America if he was an omega... heh... no one says that anymore... because-- because you _are_ an omega.  Heh."

Across the room, there was cheering and someone held up an omega's wrist like he was the winner in a boxing ring.  He had a dazed but happy expression and a black eye. The other omega, on the floor, was scrambling up, trying to staunch a bloody nose.

"I mean, it kind of was my fault. Half the reason I'm here is to kind of piss him off," Steve admitted and Donner almost laughed. They shared a brief, awkward smile. Donner still looked terrified.  His laugh was more of a coughing "heh, heh."  Steve got the impression he didn't laugh much.

"He talks about me _all_ the time?" Steve felt a little funny. And not in a good way. Gideon hated him. He made an extra effort to demean Steve every time he was around him. He spent thousands of dollars buying those tickets just to make fun of him. What kind of game was that man goddamn playing?  "Tony is the best mate I could have," Steve told him calmly, making an effort to not sound confrontational. Donner frowned. "I know that if you've read the news that sounds stupid... but it was Tony's idea to turn up in a collar, because we wanted us to come as _equals_. He might sometimes be an idiot, and I certainly am, but he respects me. And that counts a hell of a lot more than dominance.  Whatever that even really means..."

Donner shrugged, looking increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation got more serious.

"I'm not perfect, and I never could be. But that fact doesn't having anything to do with our Alphas treating us with respect.  You know that, right?"

Donner shrugged non-noncommittally.  Clearly he thought Steve was dangerous.

Steve looked down at his phone to text Tony.

_ > Apparently Gideon talks about me all the time. I couldn't be more freaked out. _

_ > ...what do you mean, he talks about you?  What about you? Who told you that? _

_ > His omega says he thinks I look nice! And that I /could/ be a perfect omega.  Creepy._

_ >  Not as creepy as this.  I'm sitting in on this talk about conversation therapy and it is sick, sick stuff, Steve.  Oh my God. You have no idea what they do to some of these kids… _

_ > Remember as much as you can. I need to know everything I can on camps. _

Steve heard a bout of cheering on the other end of the room and looked up. The two omegas who were fighting were trying to mop each other up while their Alphas shook hands and exchanged money.  "Jesus," he muttered. "Does Gideon ever make you fight?"

Donner had nearly managed to sneak away.

"Oh... oh, n-no... no, Gideon would never make me fight.  He wouldn't want my face to get ruined," said Donner quickly.  "He takes good care of me. He would-- would never kick me out or-- or let another Alpha touch me."  Donner ducked his head shyly. Clearly, he didn't think Tony was a very good mate at all, but alluding to Tony's bad behavior had taken every ounce of his courage and now he was staring at the ground.

Across the room, the man with the bloody nose had been shooed into the roped-off section for omegas and was letting several other omegas try to clean him up.  Donner saw an opportunity and took it. "I better go-- go check on Waffles," he said, trying to edge around Steve without touching him.

"Donner!"

Steve lightly grabbed his arm before he could slip away entirely, not tight enough to hurt. He stepped closer to him, staring down at Donner's nervous face. "If you ever feel like Gideon isn't taking good care of you, or you don't want to be with me anymore, you come to me - and I'll get you out, okay? I'll get you out." Donner frowned, suddenly looking confused.

He pulled out of Steve's grip and then disappeared.

The woman who'd pulled away from him earlier scoffed from Steve's left. She was in a scarlet dress, her black hair done up in tight curls. She looked good but the expression on her face was foul. Steve pulled away from her to go back to the friendlier group of omegas he'd left.

"--don't think mine's playing, it's really not her thing," Hal was saying as Steve returned to them.

Fred shrugged. "Andy always plays. But he only bets money. He pulls out if things get too messy."

Steve sat back down. "What's this?"

"The Alphas play a big poker game the first night," Abby explained. "It can get pretty intense."

"Last year I hear some guy lost one point two _million_ ," said Abby in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, and DeSoto got put on the table, too," said Fred.  "That's when Andy folded. We only lost about forty thou. ...I mean, it's a lot, but Andy always comes to this this expecting to spend a ton of money, so it was budgeted."

Hal pulled a face.  "It's a bit wasteful, don't you think?  Spending that much money on a silly game?"

"Alphas will be Alphas.  They like showing off," said Fred with a patronizing smile.

"Steve, were you talking with Donner Malick earlier?  ...you know he _worships_ you, right?"

"Oh, please, half the omegas here worship him.  He's Mr. Big Shot," said Fred, affectionately teasing.

"No, no, Donner liked him before he came out.  You know how everyone says he looks like him. I hear that's why Gideon bought him back in... what was it?"

"2005, maybe?" suggested Abby.

"No, no, dude, it was 2002," said Lola. "Donny's twenty-six and he was bonded the day after his seventeen birthday, so it was 2002.  C'mon, Abby, you were there, it was the same year as the bonding--"

"Oh my gosh, you're right!  I remember now!" exclaimed Abby.  _"This one's a spitting image of Captain America, isn't he?_  Everyone laughed... Yeah, he sold for like, what, seven hundred grand?"

"Mm-hm.  Him and Hammer got into a bidding war.  It was intense."

They were talking about the auction of a live human being as if it were a sports match they had all attended.  Even these omegas seemed to have grown comfortable with the idea of their status being treated this way. Clearly they thought it was perfectly normal to be traded and sold and made to fight and kept in a little roped-off pen.  Being the omegas of the elite, of the rich and powerful, all of the people here seemed well cared-for. None were sick or starving or anything like that; they were dressed in nice clothes and didn't seem sad. Yet Steve couldn't help but wonder how many had been force-bonded.  Arrangements were only made illegal, what, twenty-eight years ago? And if this conference was any indication, it was still happening, albeit more subtly than before.

"Wait, was that the same year that kid... oh, what's his name..." said Fred.

"Dazzle?  Storm?  Ashtray?"

"Yes!  That's it, Ashtray.  Wasn't that the year he had the public bonding ceremony?"

"Dude, that's what we were _just_ saying.  Same year," said Lola.

"Ugh.  So awful," said Hal.  Everyone nodded gravely.

"I think I saw him in the lobby earlier.  His Alpha, Mike, he's got a new omega. I don't know her name, though."

"No surprise there.  I heard Ashtray's barren."

"The new one's already showing.  I'm guessing she's due in August."

"Steve? Steve, buddy?   You okay?" Lola poked Steve, who looked like he was frozen in time. His left eye twitched. He felt.. oddly powerless. Steve was strong, agile, an expert tactician. And yet he was lost here. He was useless. Steve couldn't change these people. He couldn't make them see that betting with your own omega's life was fucked up, or that a public bonding made every single person in that goddamn room complicit. He felt like he was going to be sick. He felt like he was curled up in the bathroom all over again with Bucky yelling through the door, saying what Steve knew were well-meaning lies.

His hands were shaking a little. Did they just say that... Gideon had _bought_ Donner because he looked like _him_? What the actual fuck?

"Are you guys actually okay with this?" Steve asked abruptly.

Lola snorted into her drink, already quite drunk. Hal frowned. Abby stared down into her wine glass awkwardly.

"We're used to this Steve. This is our lives," Fred said. "We're the lucky ones."

 _Yes_ , Steve thought, _you are_. "But what about the rest of them?"

"What can we do about?" Hal asked, sipping at her lemonade through her straw. She looked so young. "What are _you_ gonna do about it?"

Steve sat there stock still, his throat going dry. "Still trying to figure that one out," he admitted. "Did Malick really buy Donner because he looked like me?" he asked, still alarmed by this. "Because the guy hates me... and... and what happened to Ashtray?"

Abby shrugged. "Who knows?" And there was it. Her tone was casual, like she was talking about an old high school friend-- not a guy who'd been bought and then publicly bonded in front of everyone. Disgusting.

Steve's hands shook a little when he texted Tony again.

_ > They play poker and bet their own omegas. _

_ > A guy bought one years ago and publicly bonded him and now he's got a new mate because the first one couldn't have kids. _

_ > And it turns out Gideon specifically bought Donner because he looked like me. Competed with guy some called Hammer. _

"Sorry, I'll be right back." Steve needed some air. He stood, and went to leave the 'pen' when--

"Excuse me. You can't leave without your Alpha," the beta at the entrance told him.

Steve ignored her and walked right on out.

In a smaller meeting room, Tony looked down at his text, then did a double- take.  Hammer? ... _Justin_ Hammer?  No way.

He reached up to finger the small scar on his face from their fight at the Expo.  He felt oddly proud of it.

He politely excused himself from the room he was in, scooting past several people's knees, and made his way back toward the hospitality suite.  He felt thoroughly sick from watching a presentation about "reassignment" and he needed a fucking break.

In the hospitality suite, every omega had reacted to Steve leaving like he'd just dropped his pants in front of everyone, with a mixture of horror and fascination.  The Alphas looked over, equally horrified at this breach of protocol. No one quite seemed to know how to react. Call security? Security was no match for Captain America.

DeSoto's partner gave him a jab.  "Go heel him."

DeSoto tore over to Steve and stopped in front of him, hands up, a look of apology on his face.  His eye was swelling up from his earlier fight. "Hey... hey man. Stop. Please. I really, really don't want to fight you... you're gonna get us in trouble... please."  He was speaking softly, so no one could hear him aside from Steve. His expression was one of pleading. Unable to say no to his Alpha, it was clear he would fight Steve if Steve tried to go any further, but that he was well-aware he was going to get beaten to a pulp.  " _Please_ , Mr. America."

Steve was so confused when DeSoto appeared in front of him. Why did his stepping out of the omega 'pen' cause such a raucous? He turned out to see everyone staring at him, his eyes wide. Steve wanted to laugh. They all looked like they were afraid of him. A grim part of himself thought they _should_ be. Steve was an omega who was his own person; he was unpredictable.  DeSoto couldn't stop him.  No one could.

Suddenly Tony was there, a hand clasped on Steve's shoulder.

When Tony appeared he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He let out a trembling exhale.

"What's going on here?" asked Tony sweetly.

DeSoto's Alpha walked over, furious.  "Your omega was running wild, that's what."

"...Steve?  Running wild?  Nonsense," said Tony.  "He was getting me a drink.  That's allowed. Go ahead, check my phone."  Tony dug into his pocket and showed the other man a text.

The other man looked at it, brow furrowed, clearly trying to work out whether or not this was some kind of trick.  (It was. Tony's phone was a StarkTech III and changing time stamps on text messages was child's play to him.)

"...you better watch yourself, Stark.  If that breeder of yours goes tearing around on his own, both of you are gonna get banned."

Tony's grip on Steve's shoulder tightened a tiny bit, but his smile remained.  "Steve and I are absolutely going to respect the rules. Come on, Stevie, let's go outside, grab a smoke."  Neither of them smoked but Tony could tell Steve was in imminent danger of punching through a wall; being called a breeder hadn't helped calm him whatsoever.

DeSoto looked at Steve with a sad expression as Tony gently put an arm around Steve's waist and tried to lead him away.  "C'mon... don't say anything... c'mon... just come..." muttered Tony out of the corner of his mouth.

Steve's gaze dragged between DeSoto and his Apha. Then back to the omega. He looked desperately like he wanted to say something but didn't. Steve moved to go with Tony and it was like the whole room relaxed again, the tension ebbing away as the situation broke down.

He wasn't really aware of where they were going until Tony pushed open the door to a patio.  The fresh air hit him and Steve sighed in relief, moving to take a seat a little heavily. "Damn," he whispered and then he let his head fall into his hands.

They were two Alpha women sat outside smoking with drinks. They glanced over curiously but didn't approach. Steve's shoulders were shaking a little. "I don't--"

Gideon Malick had _bought_ Donner because he looked like _him_.

Steve looked up, fingers steepled under his chin. "These people are _monsters_ ," he whispered.

"Yes.  Yes, they are," agreed Tony, running his hands up and down Steve's forearms soothingly.  "But you can't break the rules or you'll get us kicked out, and we have to be here at least long enough for the auction.  We have to help the omegas here, Steve. We can't give them an excuse to kick us out and that's what you're doing. Why the hell were you running off, anyway?  Because of Gideon and Hammer fighting over that guy who looked like you? ...look, that was before they even _knew_ you were an omega, Steve.  And come on, you _know_ how attractive you are, every Alpha in there's probably got a thing for you... hell, even I had a poster of you in my room growing up... you gotta calm down, man."

Tony pulled Steve into an embrace, putting his hand on the back of Steve's head and letting Steve bury his face into Tony's chest.  As usual, Tony ended up on his tip-toes and Steve had to stoop a little.

"Remember... we're doing this for the omegas... for kids like Piper," said Tony firmly.  "...and also I'm getting a _lot_ of dirt on them.  They had a whole presentation about all the _advances_ being made in reassignment and I got tons of info, stuff that you can use to fight it."

"Thank you Tony," Steve whispered, calming instantly as he curled into the other's touch. He just needed a moment, a moment here with his Alpha. Steve ran his hands down Tony's chest, feeling the rim of his arc reactor through the shirt and the thrum of a heart beat. He was warm and solid and he was _here_. Steve sighed.

"I'm gonna behave. I won't get kicked out. Promise," he murmured. Steve could heel his pride for a few days, if nothing else. "It just makes me think...what if SHIELD hadn't found me in the ice? I was screwed in the head when I woke up Tony. The first few days I had amnesia and kept screaming about why I was so big. I was in pieces. What if people like _this_ had found me? What if I was sold in a place like this, ended up with a guy like Malick? All these people... I just want to get them out of here. But how do you save people who don't think they need saving?"

Tony shrugged inelegantly, then offered, "Well, they're the ones who need it the most, aren't they?"

Steve  lifted his gaze up to Tony's face. "I just love you, okay? I just need to tell you that," Steve murmured and stood, taking Tony's hand in his own. "Do you know what happens with the dinner yet? Because I'm starving..."

They had evening entertainment before poker. A famous singer, and then some dodgier sounding rooms, and finally... a casino, which would be set up mainly for card games. Alphas loved to compete, after all.

Tony checked his watch,  "Dinner's not for hours. But let's get you lunch.  I know how your metabolism is. And Steve... I wanna enter that poker tournament."  Tony's eyes were bright. "Steve, I'm good at poker. _Real_ good.  I've an an IQ over 200, I can count cards... I'll fucking _slay_ them.  And think about the good you could do if you got their omegas alone for the night!"

He leaned in to nuzzle Steve's hair, to nose behind his ears.  Tony had always found the skin behind Steve's ears appealing and wasn't sure why; ever since Gleason had told him there were scent glands there, Tony knew why he was drawn to that area.  It gave him a sense of comfort and arousal at the same time.

"Just don't bet anything that isn't money in poker," Steve said. "I know you're good. But apparently they start betting their omegas when shit gets heavy-- you don't want to _win_ other people's mates; what would we do with them?"

"Show them a good time," said Tony.  Steve frowned; Tony punched his arm.  "I meant _respecting them and stuff_ , Steve!  You know, showing them what a _good_ relationship looks like!  ....come on, beefcake.  Obviously, your blood sugar is low.  Let's get you a sandwich," said Tony gently, threading their hands together.  "...wait 'til you see the information packs I got on these conversion therapy camps, Steve.  It's not just cutting out the gland, they do other stuff, too... trying to implant hackles and artificial knots and stuff... it was insane.  Dumping Alpha pheromones into them, electroshock, forcing them to mate other omegas, you wouldn't _believe_ it, and this one guy was talking about how happy he was that his son was an Alpha now... oh my God... we've gotta stay here and get as much shit on them as we can so we can fight this."  Tony squeezed Steve's hand.

He had a thick folder under one arm.  Tony wasn't just here to make a point.  Tony wasn't a guy who liked making points.  Tony was a guy who liked taking actions. As far as he was concerned, theirs was an intelligence-gathering mission.

"Lunch sounds good," Steve hummed, closing his eyes as Tony leaned in. He squeezed their fingers together briefly. Sometimes he didn't appreciate who wonderfully calming an influence Tony could have on him. He let the other lead them back toward the hotel.

"It's amazing you're learning all this Tony. We're going to need every detail before we can attack them, and I want to be ready for my birthday." Maybe it was strange, but Steve liked the idea of doing it on his birthday. He would get a lot of media attention around his birthday anyway, he might as well make the most of it. He pressed a quick kiss to the other's shoulder before they stepped back out into the crowds.

"...did you say _attack_ ?  On your birthday?  The hell are you talking about, Steve?" asked Tony, eyes narrowing a little.

"Project 84.  You'll see," promised Steve.  A smile quirked his lips upwards and his eyes glinted.  "They'll all see."


	12. Dr. McDermott and Dr. Frond

Tony led Steve into the lobby, where well-dressed Alphas and their silent, casual omegas were mingling.  Tony steered Steve toward the center, where he suspected hor d'oeuvres would be.  His knowledge of high society paid off; they found a table full of sandwiches. An Alpha watched Steve warily as he inhaled about one sandwich in three seconds and took two more, one salmon and one ham. "Say what you want - they're assholes here, but they serve good food," Steve said, stealing a glance around. "I'm just not sure I can hang out with those omegas in that 'pen' right now. Think I'm allowed to crash a workshop with you?"

Tony nibbled a cucumber sandwich delicately, flipping open the program.  He pointed to the glossy page in front of them. "Yeah, there's some workshops that let in omegas.  It says beneath the title... see... _omegas permitted._  You can pick one, there's three coming up you can hang out in. Listen, Steve, I really wanna play in that poker game tonight.   ...also, wouldn't it be a _good_ thing to win an omega?  I doubt it's permanent, I think you just win them for a night.  They could just hang out with you, swim in the pool, eat my food... you know, live their life as a normal person for once, instead of _serving_ someone."  He passed the program to Steve to pluck a drink from a passing waiter.  "Any workshops that look good to you?"

Tony had already checked out the entertainment.  Some country singer Tony had never heard of, and, surprisingly, Jessica Simpson, who was a beta who was apparently sympathetic... or perhaps they'd just paid her a lot.  Who knew? Tony had also bumped into the head of R&D for AccuTech, a subsidiary of Stark Industries, as well as three different Roxxon employees: Cindy Shelton, Jonas Harrow, and the fucking CEO himself, Dario Agger.  Tony and Jonas had butted horns before and they had spent most of the last workshop glaring at each other.

Tony was feeling a bit disappointed that so many of the people he regularly saw at corporate parties were turning out to be assholes.  (He'd already know Jonas was an asshole, though.)

"Okay, so there's one about pregnancy. Nope." Steve scrolled through the list. "Also, to try and win an omega you have to put one on the table. You're not betting me for shit. I don't care how good you think you are," he told him pointedly and found the second workshop. "Huh. Okay, there's one for _Discipline in the Home_...could be funny.  And here's one about-- is that seriously about how to 'properly' have sex? Oh my God. That's hilarious. We should go to that one. I bet they just want you to do missionary all the time."

A woman who was passing by looked scandalized at Steve's words.

"...you'd think most of these guys would've figured out sex by now," said Tony with a wolfish grin.  "And no, you're confused. Missionary is how you have sex with your _wife_.  With your _omega_ , it's front to back, biting the neck.  ...see, this is why we need that class, you obviously have no idea how to get boned properly."  Tony was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Even though he often delivered jokes dead-pan, the idea of sitting with Steve listening to someone tell them how to have sex the _correct_ way tickled him.

"Lemme just grab another drink and then we can go learn about how we've been doing it wrong the last year," said Tony, tugging Steve's hand.  He swung y the bar to get himself a martini before walking off into the lobby to try to find the right room.

"Hey, Tony!"  Eric was waving.

"...hey, Eric.  Any idea where Suite B is?  I wanna check out that, uhh... that workshop on how to properly mate an omega."

"Oh, just follow us.  We're going too," said Eric pleasantly.  Piper was hovering behind him, twirling a strand of her hair.  "...you know that it's mostly about the best techniques to impregnate your omega, though, right?"

"Oh I'm so sorry. We've clearly not been doing it enough," Steve hummed dryly, raising a brow at Tony as he finished the last of his salmon sandwich. He knew he wasn't the most clued up on sex but Steve was aware that heand Tony did it a lot. They had a super serum libido to contend with. Especially in the months where Steve had been growing an immunity to heat inducers; that had been _intense_.  
   
"Are you guys trying?"

"Oh.  No. No, we are not," said Tony with a hint of alarm, glancing at Steve.  "...but we _do_ like sex, so--"

"The trick is to knot them in heat," said Eric wisely.

"...don't spoil the class for me, man," said Tony, rolling his eyes.  Eric didn't notice, but Piper did; for a split second, her eyes lit up with the mischievous amusement of a normal teenage girl.  Then it was gone.

"Knotting in heat? Whoever would have thought of such a thing?" Steve murmured conspiratorially, tucking the program into his back pocket.

Eric led the way. They went into the elevator then up a few flights and headed into what looked like a lecture theater/conference room. They grabbed seats near the middle, Eric saying something about not being too far from the front if they wanted to ask questions.

"You been to one of these before?" Steve asked Piper. She then blushed and shook her head.

"Never...never to one about this sort of _thing_.  I've only had four heats before," admitted Piper quietly, her pale skin flushing even deeper.  "I guess I was a late bloomer... heh. I, um, I had one with Eric before though but we didn't, um, I didn't get, y'know."  She looked down, fiddling uncomfortably with all the little bracelets on her wrist.

"I've only ever had one proper one," Steve said and Piper looked confused. "Before, I was too sick," he tried to explain.

"I...I saw your interview," Piper whispered. "I'm sorry you lost it."

Something tugged in Steve's gut. "Thanks."

Tony scanned the room; lots of couples.  Mostly male Alphas. In fact, he only spotted one female Alpha in the whole group.  No wonder; a female Alpha couldn't exactly impregnate her mate.

The chattering in the crowd died down as a man waltzed up to the lectern.  He had a heavy white beard and glasses and Tony nudged Steve. The guy was a total college professor stereotype.  Hell, if not for the glasses, he could have passed as Darwin himself.

"Afternoon, everyone.  I'm Richard, and this is the Biology of Successful Mating, and, no, I did _not_ come up with that terrible title, you can blame the event coordinator for that one.  I wanted to call it Sex with Rex-- Rex here's my omega, say hi, Rex--" A chipper-looking omega standing behind him waved.  "--but they vetoed that right out the window, so here we are. Is everyone in the right place? If you don't want to hear about sex, you're definitely in the wrong place..."

A few people in the audience were grinning and tittering.  Richard's energy was infectious and Tony begrudgingly had to admit, he liked his style.  Despite the beard and glasses, Richard was clearly younger than he appeared. Probably no more than ten years older than Tony, actually.

"--and in case you're wondering, no, sorry, we _won't_ be giving a live demonstration; sorry, horseshoes--"

Most of the omegas in the audience laughed; next to Steve, Piper giggled softly.

"--what we're going to talk about today is the basic scientific principles behind mating, which is my specialty.  That's right, I'm actually qualified to talk to you folks about this today. I teach human biology, anatomy, and sexuality over at Culver College, which some of you might recall is the place where Dr. Banner went mad, but let the record show, that was _not_ my department, and I'd been telling him for years to switch to decaf."

Tony snorted.  "I hate to admit it but this guy's hilarious," he muttered to Steve.

"Okay!  So! ...you!"  Richard pointed to a couple in the front row.  "You look like you're pregnant already, congratulations.  ...so what the hell are you doing here? ...no, but seriously, when are you due?  ...oh, May, well, congratulations. Hoping for a boy or a girl?"

The Alpha spoke for his mate, putting a loving hand on her arm.  "We don't care, so long as it's healthy and an Alpha."

"...beautiful!  ...are you guys psychics?  You read my mind. Let's talk genetics.  Rex!"

His omega scampered to his side and held up a poster.

"...can everyone see the poster?  ...I asked for a projector but, once again, the event coordinator sort of dropped the ball.  This, ladies and gentlemen, is a Punnett square. A basic predictive model of gene inheritance and traits.  Today, over the next hour, I'm going to explain to you how this all works so that if you want to select a good breeder and boost your chances of having an Alpha whelp, you can.  I know most of us here think with our knots instead of our minds--"

"Ahem," said the female Alpha in the audience.

"--excuse me, our knots and noses--"

There were a few chuckles.

"--what are you doing here, anyway?" asked Richard.  "How on earth do you plan to knock that omega up?"

"I'm going to lose at poker tonight," she said, and the room burst into laughter at her response.  Even Tony accidentally let out a small snigger before catching himself. The thing was, everyone's mood was so pleasant and all the couples looked... well... happy.  This was the first time Tony hadn't felt like the omegas were being treated like shit. Granted, they were talking about how to impregnate them, but the omegas in the audience generally seemed very receptive to the idea.  Plus, Tony was pleasantly surprised to find he was attending a science-based lecture. He wasn't a biologist but he appreciated learning how the hell this worked because he had no idea; Clint's brief and confusing explanation of genes hadn't done much for him.

"This talk doesn't seem that bad," Steve agreed with Tony. "It's just about getting pregnant." And that concept alone was hardly oppressive. A lot of couples wanted little ones running around; there was nothing wrong with that. Besides, Richard and Rex seemed to be getting along well, and Steve couldn't help but find it all quite funny.

"It's not actually possible to increase the chance of having an Alpha, right?" Steve said and Piper gave him a look, like he'd just asked if doors were designed to open. "It's all just chance, isn't it? Like if you have a girl or boy..."

"There's been a lot of studies proving otherwise," Eric whispered from Piper's left. Studies, Steve thought, _right_.

When Richard began by talking pure basic genetics, he was a hell of a lot clearer than Clint had been.  There were two genes: one for status and one for the expression of status. An Alpha, for example, could have two different genes: an Alpha gene and a beta gene.  If the beta gene was turned off, then they would be an Alpha, and if the beta gene was turned on, they would be a beta who could have an Alpha child. Ditto for omegas.

"There's some people who think dominance and submission is based on genes.   _Wrong_.  Being a carrier for the beta gene doesn't dictate how dominant you are.  Sorry, folks. The good news, for all you Alphas who are married to a beta, you don't have to worry about that affecting your child's standing.  However, you should be aware that, if you're a carrier for the beta gene and your beta is a carrier for the omega gene, you could very well end up with an omega.  Nearly anyone can end up with anything. Although Alpha and omega genes cannot co-exist. Two Alphas will always have either an Alpha or a beta, and two omegas will always ave either a beta or an omega.  Having an Alpha-omega gene makeup is non-viable." Richard was gesturing to the poster with gusto.

A hand in the audience flew up.  "...does conversion actually--"

"No.  Reassignment or conversion therapy is no better than an omega overdosing on suppressants.  Total waste of money," said Richard. "..no doubt I'm going to raise some hackles from the conversion folks who are here but, hey, that's science.  Now. Short of genetic testing, there's no way to tell what genes you're carrying. The best way to do this is to look at your family make-up. If you want a breeder who's going to sire Alphas, take a look at the siblings, take a look at the parents.  Word of warning: male omegas aren't as good breeders as females. The female body made room for uterus; the male body didn't. Males are more likely to miscarry and the birthweight of their babies is more likely to be low. Which isn't to say they aren't absolute delights, right, Rex?"

Rex beamed and the audience chuckled.

"Okay, next diagram!  ...this is a cloaca! A vagina's a vagina; can't tell the difference between a beta and an omega.  Male omegas, though, are a whole 'nother plate of tamales. You might call them the third sex. So here, you can see, there's a branch and a little flap... not dissimilar to the esophagus and the trachea, really.  This branch goes up to the gastro-intestinal tract, whereas this one, you see, goes right up to the uterus. And that little flap is your buddy because that's what's keeping the two separate. As far as menstruation, of course, it's just excreted with all the rest of the junk, so if any of you have noticed your omegas shitting blood, don't worry, they're probably fine."

Tony and Eric were leaned into each other shaking with silent laughter.

"--the cloaca is self-cleaning so, Alphas, don't douche your omega.  Omegas, don't let your Alphas douche you. And ladies, the same goes for your naughty bits.  No douching. Very unhealthy. Now-- next diagram, Rex-- _this_ is your typical mating position, what the kids call doggy style-- this couple looks pretty happy, don't they?-- and this actually has the _least_ chance of impregnation because, if you look at the cloaca again, you'll see it curves up dorsally.  Gravity is pulling all that junk down. You squirt up, and omega's hole is facing down, and now you've ruined your bedsheets!  Which is why, if you're really trying, here's what _I_ recommend."

Richard went on to go through series of diagrams, making jokes to try and ease the awkwardness and Steve sort of had to admit he liked him. He didn't make any derogatory comments about omegas, or anyone else, for that matter.  He used horseshoe interchangeably with omega, but Steve had grown up in a time when horseshoe was the normal term and he didn't feel like Richard's use of it was malicious in the slightest.

Piper had her hands over her bright-red face and was peeking through her fingers as Richard showed them diagram after diagram of different mating positions.  Tony and Eric, perhaps because they were also both a little drunk, were giggling like schoolboys.

One of the last positions involved the omega to possess a great deal of flexibility.

"Now, eh, this position isn't possible for everyone. But it seriously does increase the chance of--"

Steve cocked his head. How did having your feet behind your head increase the chance of getting pregnant? Surely it just meant your Alpha could slide-- _oh_ , okay. He got it. Piper, next to him, seemed to be getting a little embarrassed about all this talk of sex. Steve was finding it semi-interesting. Though he knew Tony didn't want children.

Being pregnant appealed to him, instinctively, but Steve wasn’t honestly sure he wanted children himself. And it didn't matter, anyway.

"Okay, so, let's see... that's the last poster, I think, isn't it, Rex?  ..any questions or comments or concerns? ...I'm seeing a lot of smiles... oh, grow up, it's just sex, people.  No judgement, there's no dumb questions... the male omega is pretty poorly understood... I Mastered in omegocology, let my tell you, Mom was _not_ thrilled with that one... oh!  And everyone applaud Rex, thanks for holding up all those sexy diagrams for me, Rex..."

The room broke out in a smattering of applause as Rex began rolling up all the posters.  Richard leaned his elbows on the lectern, scanning the crowd for anyone with questions.

A hand shot up instantly, the question coming from a non-descriptive man in a suit. "How important is it for your omega to be aroused for getting pregnant?"

Steve choked on his water, attracting a view curious gazes from around. Jesus Christ. Were these people living in the dark ages? If your omega wasn't aroused then surely you were doing more than a few things wrong! But then, if a lot of partnerships were via force bonding...then maybe the omegas weren't really attracted their mates. The selection process seemed grim anyway; surely personality should come before the chance of siring an Alpha? But then Steve thought back to all of their omegas he'd met so far, most of them terrifyingly empty of both character and gumption.

Richard laughed almost awkward, running a hand through his beard. "Obviously it helps! Orgasms are more than just a bit of fun! They sort of-- er, suck it all up in there and certainly increase the chance of conception. And it goes without saying that you're omega will be willing to do it more often if they're having a good time of it!"

The crowd laughed good-naturedly. Steve felt mildly disturbed. Did most of the Alphas here not get their omegas off during sex? What was _wrong_ with them?

Another hand shot up. "Is it true exercise can cause a miscarriage?"

"No! So long as it isn't too strenuous," Richard said. "In fact, exercise is good for a healthy pregnancy. But they shouldn't be attempting 'parkour', or whatever the kids get up to these days." Another laugh. Steve had no idea what 'parkour' was.

Steve was kind of surprised how much this was about getting knocked up. There was a whole other talk on pregnancy, after all. But apparently 'good sex' just equated to getting pregnant. Steve didn't know why but he found that notion slightly depressing.

Another hand. "What's the best position to stay in once the knot has taken hold?"

"Excellent question! The best position is probably the omega on his or her side and the Alpha behind them. I know it can get uncomfortable but it's important to hold it for as long as you can, even over night! This especially helps with male omegas who struggle with conception more generally. Staying together over night boosts your average chances from around 3% to 15%!"

Tony sobered up damned quickly at that.  Keeping the knot in increased the chances of... that?  Tony _always_ kept the knot in.  He and Steve knotted regularly.

Before he knew was he was doing, he raised his hand.

"Mr. Stark?  ... nice collar, by the way..."

"Oh, thank you," said Tony breezily.  "Uh, about the knot. You can... take that out, though, right?  Let's say, hypothetically, you didn't want to leave it in... maybe you... had somewhere to be or something..."

"Yes, yes, lots of Alphas and omegas want to know about the knotting process.  The knot acts as a sort of... think of it as a cork in a wine bottle. That's your body trying to keep in the semen you've released.  Can you take it out? Yes. It can be painful, but it's certainly possible. The best method is to get some lube or oil, whatever you have on hand, and massage around the base, gently working it out.  You don't want to tug it straight out; that can cause tearing to the omega. You want to do a sort of hip shimmy--" Richard gave a demonstrative wiggle. "--and use your hands to ease it out."

Another hand shot up.  "Is it true that you can't get them pregnant unless you knot them?"

"No, no, in theory, you could impregnate an omega with a turkey baster!  Knotting is just more fun," said Richard, grinning, and the audience laughed.

"Do you and Rex have any children?" asked the female Alpha, raising her hand without waiting to be called on.

"No.  No, we don't, Rex was sterilized," said Richard succinctly, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder.  This sentence was delivering without any bite to it, but also without humor, and the rumor jovial attitude evaporated in an instant.

After a moment, someone in the front raised their hand.  "...how early can you breed an omega?"

"If you want whelps, you have to wait until they've begun having heats, which is usually around age thirteen or fourteen.  However, it's both easier, physically and emotionally, to wait until they're at least seventeen or eighteen. Not to mention legal," said Richard.  "In all fifty states, the legal age of bonding consent is seventeen, so do yourself a favor and wait until then. And, by the way, the idea that omegas need to be broken in?  Absolute tripe! There's no reason you can't have a very healthy and productive sexual relationship with an omega who is bonded at, say, nineteen or twenty... or even later.  I got Rex here when he was twenty-four, and trust me, he's _very_ good at satisfying my needs!"

More laughter, and Rex beamed, eyeing Richard adoringly.

"Alright, is that it?  Any more questions? Usually there's more question... then again, I generally teach twenty-year-olds... alright, well, that's all I have for you!  If you want to speak with me in private about any concerns I'm happy to talk to you, but disclaimer: I'm a doctor and my hourly rate is _not_ cheap! But feel free to say hi to Rex and me, we don't bite, I promise... thanks for coming by!"

Everyone began standing and stretching.

Eric reached over to rifle Piper's hair.  "Well, what did you think of that, sweetheart?"

Piper was still bright red.  "I'unno," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"Richard's great," said Tony.

"Yeah, shame about Rex, though."

"...what _about_ Rex?"  Tony thought Rex seemed pleasant and attractive.  He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones and bright blue eyes.  His smile was bright and his teeth white and straight.

Eric got a look of sympathy.  "...you don't know? He got Rex second-hand.  Richard's of the best omegecologists in the world, right up there with David Gleason--"  (Tony blinked.) "--and he was single. Everyone thought Richard was gonna send up with someone like Donner.  But instead he got Rex. Rex didn't present as an omega until he was a teenager. Got force-bonded, pregnant... got an abortion and his folks sent him to Pine Hills... you know.  He turned out all funny, that was before they figured out how to do arvicolinectomies correctly. ...take a peek at the guy's neck if you can. It looks like fuckin' corned beef hash.  Real sad. They won't even let him into the pen in the hospitality suite with the other omegas. Makes 'em too uncomfortable. The guy smells like burning tires. He's on a bunch of suppressants to try to neutralize it but it's still creepy as hell."

"That's awful," Steve breathed and he doubted Eric heard him, or chose to hear him. Piper looked sad at the mention of Rex, her head bent down a little awkwardly as she focused her glassy eyes on the floor instead of any of them. They stood and headed out, the spring in Piper's step considerably diluted. Steve was beginning to realize he didn't know if it was all the talk of pregnancy or Rex himself that was actually bothering her.

They headed out of the conference room, toward the elevator. Steve ducked his head down to try and talk to Piper. "What's your guys plan for the rest of the day?"

She shrugged. "Eric will probably play cards later. He doesn't do the big games though. Before that, there's dinner. And right now, I think there's, like, a fashion show for omega clothing, and there's another conference on pregnancy soon. He'll probably want to go to that. But before there's--"

"Discipline! It's a talk by Maggie Frond. She's very famous. Got a book and everything, my copy of it's signed."

"What does she write about?" Steve asked. Eric answered, but kept eye contact with Tony.

"Oh, how to break an omega in. What do when they... _act out_. She has great theories." Eric was obviously a bit of a fan boy. "She says omegas who act out are actually the most submissive when you break them in."

"Uh huh," Steve said, sounding unconvinced. He sent a sideways glance at Tony and the two of them fell back, letter Eric and Piper walk ahead of them. "Do you actually wanna go to this thing?"

Tony shrugged.  "...do _you_?  You don't 'act out' much--"  The corner of his mouth twitched a little.  "--aside from the occasional unannounced visits to your other Alpha."  He reached over to swipe a hand through Steve's hair affectionately,

"Please stop calling it a visit," Steve mumbled. He visited Peggy. He visited Natasha and Clint. He didn't visit people and then put people into cryo cells.

Tony rearranged his face into something more serious. "...it's up to you. It could be, you know, educational, about the kind of stuff omegas deal with.  I think it's important to know what we're up against. Plus, so far, Eric and Piper have been pretty bearable.   ...shit, she looks like she's like thirteen, though, doesn't she? ...anyway, if you want to go, I'm game, but it sounds like that class might be pretty intense.  Do you think you can handle it? You have a tendency to, you know... get upset and go all... righteously indignant. I don't think this will be like Richard's class.  I think they're probably gonna treat omegas bad in there and if you, as they say, _act out_ , then you could get us kicked out of this conference.  So... your call."

"As long as I'm allowed to be silently indignant while she spews bullshit then sure, I'll go. It's not like we have anything else to really do and we want to collect as much information as possible, right?"

"Hey, Tony, aren't you coming?  I really think you could get a lot out of Frond's talk!" called Eric, gesturing.

"We should talk to Richard and Rex sometime this weekend," added Tony.  "Do you think Richard and Gleason know each other? Did you hear, he mentioned him?  Plus, Rex might know Ty, they both probably have good information for us about Pine Hills and stuff."

"Don't want to be late!  Seriously, Frond's one of the best in the biz... I'll get you a copy of her book, she's like... like the Cesar Milan of training omegas... she has three and they're the best-behaved omegas you've ever seen..."

Tony looked at Steve.  He didn't really care what they did; he was looking forward to dinner and poker and, most of all, going home at night and taking off his collar.  Without touching it, he knew the skin on the back of his neck was swollen and inflamed; it itched and ached and he was ready to wax his hackles right off just to keep them from rising and digging into the skin over and over.

Eric was beckoning them over. Piper looked bored by his side. Steve stepped closer to Tony. "Or we could go check out our room, chill out for a bit. Take a break," Steve suggested gently, a hand on Tony's elbow. Gideon had gotten them one of the nicest suites available, again probably just to show off. Although he had no real idea how much it was going to backfire.

The day had been emotionally draining as it was. A few hours break before dinner might do them good and Steve knew the collar was making Tony uncomfortable; the other kept tugging at it without realising. Steve felt bad. He was kind of the one who put it there.

"Aren't you coming?" Eric asked, walking back over to them as they weren't heading into the conference room.

"What kind of stuff do they teach you?" Steve asked, curious.

Eric looked uncomfortable whenever Steve asked him questions. "Stuff like how to discipline your omega when he acts out."

Steve noticed the use of a male pronoun quite pointedly. "What, like you'd discipline a dog?"

Eric ignored Steve, so Tony asked the question again.  "How do the discipline an omega? Whack them on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper?"

"It depends on the omega," sad Eric with an expansive shrug.  "I hardly ever hit Piper. She's a good girl. Sometimes discipline is about withholding rewards instead of actual punishment, you know, skipping dinner or making them sleep on the floor instead on in your bed.  ...not that Frond's all about discipline," he added quickly, because Tony had a look of disgust on his face. "You have to balance it with rewards. ...I think Frond would be particularly interested in your... unique... well... he's... you know," said Eric, fumbling a bit.

"You get her to sleep on the floor?" Steve asked, like he was genuinely interested in the answer.

Again, Eric ignored his question. Steve thought it was pretty disgusting either way. That really was treating someone like a dog.

Tony leaned in to speak to Steve softly.  "Your call, Steve. I think Maggie Frond sounds like a total bitch.  But you know what they say... keep your friends close and your enemies closer.  Plus, we can scope out who's there. The omegas in that room will be the ones that need you most, and the Alphas in that room will be ones we should watch our backs around.  ...and you have my permission to be quietly indignant." He smiled a little and nuzzled Steve's jaw.

Eric seemed even more uncomfortable at Steve and Tony being cute, the omega leaning back into his Alpha's touch on instinct. Steve had to try not to laugh at Eric's floundering over how to describe him.  He was proud of being unruly and he felt a bit of grim satisfaction any time anyone at the conference looked offended by his behavior.

"Maybe we should go. See what kind of Alphas are there, what discipline counts as...but we can sit near the back, so if we wanna leave we can," Steve hummed. He certainly didn't want Frond to recognize them or try to call them out. She sounded like the kind of woman who liked a project. And Steve undeniably presented a very big challenge for someone in her line of work.

"Okay," said Tony, taking Steve's hand and giving it a squeeze.  They followed Eric and Piper through the hotel lobby toward another suite.

Almost immediately, Steve's plan to lay low backfired, because Maggie Frond was standing by the door, back against the door, arms crossed, feet planted.  She was a small woman but she oozed dominance.

"Well, well!  Just the pair I was hoping to see!  Anthony Stark!" She stuck out a hand.

"Just... just Tony," said Tony awkwardly, letting her shake his hand.

"And _this_ must be your mate.  He's an unruly one, isn't he?  Very handsome, though. ...take off that collar, Stark, I'm not going to have Alphas making asses of themselves in my class.  Oh, Eric! Hi there! Good to see you again!"

Eric beamed at being remembered.

"And here's Gideon, hello, darling..."

Tony cringed, hard.  Gideon and Donner had just appeared behind them and Gideon was grinning ear-to-ear.  "Well, well, Stark... I was _hoping_ you'd meet Miss Frond... she can help you... you know, Donner here used to be terribly behaved but we set him straight, didn't we, Mags?"

Donner was staring down at the floor.

"Oh, yes.  Any omega can be trained... if the Alpha is willing," said Maggie, staring pointedly at Tony.  She checked her watch. "Well, it's nearly time for us to start. If you want to sit in, Stark, you're more than welcome.  But you'll have to take that collar off."

"I don't have the key," said Tony.

"...what do you mean, you don't have it?  Did you lose it?" said Eric, looking temporarily alarmed on Tony's behalf.

"No, Steve has it."

Every Alpha in the immediate vicinity reacted like Tony had just told them the collar was poisoned and slowly killing them.  Donner had a brief smile that quickly disappeared, and he went back down to staring at the floor quietly, two steps behind Gideon.

"Well," Gideon said after a moment, gesturing impatiently to Steve. "Give him the key."

"I can't," Steve said.

"What do you mean you _can't_?" Frond asked, frowning at him like he was an idiot.

Steve smiled politely. "They were in my jacket. And, you see, for some very odd reason...I wasn't allowed to wear my jacket."

Frond stepped up to him and Steve admittedly felt a little unnerved. He felt like he was squaring up with a more asshole version of Natasha. Not because of her dominance, but the way she just _looked_ at him. "Oh," she breathed, lips twitching up in a half smile. "You are good at this." Then she pulled back. "I see there's a lot of bad habits to iron out. Goodness knows why he thinks he's in charge."

"I did lead an army, that one time," Steve pointed out. Piper was poorly concealing a grin. Malick looked furious and Donner looked... concerned, perhaps for Steve's safety. Or sanity.

"Oh, yes.  I'm well aware of your history.  You were spoiled. Indulged by Howard Stark.  Obviously, his attitude toward omegas rubbed off on his son."  

"Spoiled?" Steve wanted to laugh. "I've been shot over _twenty_ times..."

Frond either didn't hear or didn't care.

She turned suddenly to a passing omega, who was bearing a tray of champagne.  "YOU! BOY!"

He nearly dropped his tray.

"Y-yes, miss?"

"Go find this omega's jacket.  There's a key in the pocket. Stark, what's the key look like?"

Tony looked over at Steve uncertainly, torn between desperately wanting to air out his neck and not wanting to give Maggie Frond any satisfaction.  He was starting to wonder whether they really wanted to sit in on this workshop or not. Maggie Frond looked like she wanted to make an example of Steve.  But Tony didn't want to walk away, like a coward. And also, he was genuinely worried about Donner and Piper. Piper was just a kid. And Donner... poor Donner seemed so cowed, yet Maggie and Gideon both spoke like Donner had once actually been a real person with an actual personality.

Tony reached out to grab a glass of champagne from the omega's tray; he'd sobered up considerably during Richard's talk and he was regretting that immensely.

"Don't bother," Steve told the waiter. "We just won't go in. We didn't mean to cause a scene..." Well, that was joke. They'd literally only come to ruffle feathers; gathering info had been a pleasant bonus. And even though people were arguing with Steve, at least they were actually talking to him now. Sort of. It was a nice change.

The keys also weren't in his jacket, anyway, but his waistcoat. Although Steve didn't think it a good time to mention that.

Gideon's eyes narrowed. "Let them in as they are," he said; surprising a lot of Alphas around them. "It is more important that Stark learn than be dressed appropriately."

And suddenly they were in a tight spot again. They could hardly say no.

Tony felt sick at the idea of needing to be "taught" how to have a relationship with Steve.  He and Steve had a perfect relationship already; they were bonded, they lived together, they fucked, they were friends... this talk of him "learning" how to abuse Steve was so fucking backwards, but how could he say no, now that Gideon of all people had stood up for him?

He huffed a little and tugged Steve's hand, walking into the little conference room with the same feeling he often got when he was going into a board room and knew the profit margins were bad.

Unlike Richard's audience, this one was made up of Alphas who were clearly hostile toward Tony.  There were chairs taking up three-fourths of the room, but then, in the back, there was a corner devoid of chairs, and there were several omegas sitting here.  Tony's stomach turned a little. Was Steve expected to sit here with these other sad-looking omegas?

Donner and Piper both sat without a hint of hesitation.  Tony recognized only one other omegas, DeSoto, by his black eye.

Maggie Frond, despite her diminutive stature, commanded a presence like no other when she slammed the door behind her and walked to the front of the room.  "This is Discipline in the Home. I'm Maggie Frond," she said brusquely. "There's two things every bonded omega wants, needs, and craves. That's whelps, and approval.  An omega that is properly broken in is a happy omega. Omegas with direction, omegas with leadership... these are omegas who are truly fulfilled. An omega who serves is an omega who is content.  That is their natural place in the world. That--" She pointed suddenly to Steve. "--is not a happy omega. ...everyone omega in this room has the need for approval in common. They are desperate to be told they are good, to please their Alphas.  They're hard-wired to want it. Discipline is therefore not only for the Alpha's benefit, but for the omega's, too. When you put an omega on their knees, you're strengthening your bond. Discipline isn't about punishment. It's about setting expectations for the omega to follow.  When they obey, they get rewarded. When they disobey, they get disciplined. It's a simple principle that, sadly, few Alphas today seem to be able to wrap their heads around."

Tony had heard that Maggie had three ( _three_?!) omegas, but there were only two that he could identify as hers.  One male, one woman. They both stood off to the side of the room in heavy collars, watching her reverently, hands clasped in front of them, bodies tense like they were ready to leap to her aid at any moment.  Which they probably were. They didn't look happy, or sad, or anything, really. The intensity of their expressions didn't allow room for any other emotion.

Steve probably should have been upset, listening to everything Frond had to say...but he was just honestly struggling not to laugh. The idea that he would be happy if Tony abused him, hit him...? It was laughable. The idea that he would supposedly be happier if he was not actually himself. Steve held a hand over his mouth and struggled to suppress incredulous laughter, pressing his face against Tony's shoulders as Frond went on about kneeling and how beneficial it was.  Oka,y Steve had to admit. It _did_ feel a nice, when he knelt for Tony, but it had _never_ been about discipline. It was had been about _respect_. He'd made the choice to do it and it had been a private, intimate thing.

An omega to their left was looking at Steve strangely, they were clearly taking this talk very seriously. Steve wasn't sure he could possibly take it seriously.

When Frond pointed him out, Steve sat up a little, a lot of gazes drifting over to them. He swallowed his laughter.  When she'd finished her speech Frond wheeled back around onto him, her tiny hand still pointing at him. "It certainly does not help when omegas do not that their place in their home seriously!"

Steve wasn't sure if he was capable of taking this kind of talk seriously.

"There are many ways in which an Alpha must assert his dominance in the home," she continued, her voice booming through out the room. "Most importantly, you must assert their place in the bedroom--"

Steve poorly suppressed a laugh again. How was he supposed to sit through this?

The omega to their side was giving him a wide eyed look, like Steve should know better. Maybe he should. But he couldn't sit here stone-faced like he gave a shit. Steve didn't get it. He never would. Even Bucky hadn't treated him like this in the forties. These people were insane.

Tony was trying not to laugh but Steve's silent, mirth-filled vibrating next to him was infectious and he was trying to silently contain laughter too.  It was like being in church; it was funnier because they were trying to suppress it.

"A lot of Alphas make the mistake of trying to control their omega before establishing that there is a reward for good behavior.  That results in a nervous omega... one who wants to avoid punishment instead of trying to please you. Don't confuse being firm with being cruel."  She pointed to Steve. "Your first Alpha withheld affection, didn't he? I'm guessing you never felt good enough, did you? Your attitude is classic... you were spoiled and indulged but you were never treated _like an omega_."  

Steve was not happy when she mentioned Bucky. Also, Frond got it wrong. Bucky didn't withhold all affection, just sex! He still cuddled Steve, still slept next to him, kissed him if he was lucky... well, when he behaved himself.

How dare Frond mention him. A man Steve had to drive across state mere days ago to have him put in a freezer because he was a danger to himself. She had no idea. None of these Alphas did. Steve hated it when they patronized him, acted like they were superior...did they know the sacrifice of war? No. Did they know what it was like to have to bury your own friends? No. Did they know what it was like to freeze to death then come back seventy years later? Steve had given him so much to the world. It was laughable that they wanted to take away everything that made him the man that was capable of fighting someone like Johann Schmidt.

Although, okay, Bucky did totally spoil him a little bit. No arguments there, but that was only because he felt guilty for bringing girls home.

...but he'd felt good enough!  ...sort of!  Granted, he'd known he wasn't well enough to have Bucky's whelps and had been guilty every time he got sick, which was often, because then Bucky had to take care of him and make his own meals and iron his own shirts but--

But--

Screw Frond, she didn't know anything.

She scanned the crowd imperiously.  " _Spoiling_ an omega and _rewarding_ an omega are very different things.  What you see here is an omega that was given rewards out of pity but never required to earn them.  Rewards and punishments should both always be _earned_.  You need to establish a causal relationship between behavior and outcome.  Now, there is one exception. Who wants to guess?"

Eric's hand flew up.  "Giving the initial incentive," he recited.

"Bingo.  Obviously, the omega needs to know what's in it for them to behave.  Personally I recommend pressure points. The three basic pressure points on an omega are over the arvicolina, on the back of the neck, and on the two scent glands just behind the ears, near the junction of the jaw and the skull."

Maggie Frond strode over suddenly to Steve and put a hand on the back of his chair.  "Please stop laughing, Captain Rogers."

Tony stopped laughing only because he was shocked that she had said please and also called Steve "Captain Rogers."  Maggie Frond promptly reached behind Steve and pressed her fingers against the back of his ear; Steve had stopped laughing.

She leaned in.  "...good boy," she said, softly, kindly, her voice so quiet that, even in the stunned silence of the room, only Steve and Tony heard it.

When Frond touched behind his ear Steve froze. It was an oddly intimate area and and it felt so wrong for her to being touching him there. And then she whispered in his ear and Steve felt a tremor run up his spine involuntarily. Hang on-- had that felt _nice_? Steve felt silently horrified with himself. If Frond had told him to kneel in that moment as she pulled away he probably would have considered it. She manipulated his own body against him. Is that what she did with her own omegas?

Tony's neck prickled in alarm; she was _touching his omega._ But Steve was frozen and it was impossible to tell if he was in temporary shock at someone touching him or whether she'd discovered some sort of magical "off" switch.  Tony had seen videos on YouTube of people hypnotizing chickens and he wondered, bizarrely, if this was like that.

Maggie Frond had already pulled away and Tony was left with a lot of very confused emotions.  He wasn't even sure if they were his or Steve's. For a split second, Maggie Frond had almost seemed... nice?  Sexy? Maternal? Some weird combination of all those things? He was offended, deeply, on Steve's behalf, but had no idea how to react.  He looked at Steve in alarm for some indication of how they felt about this.

And deep down, in some tiny corner of his mind, he wondered if he ought to rub that spot behind Steve's ears more often.

Steve blinked when Frond walked away, almost as if he were waking up. She was talking again.

But he wasn't listening. Steve reached out to take Tony's hand. He felt strangely violated and confused, and furious at his own body betraying him. It was like when Bucky had touched his neck and it had felt amazing, whether Steve had chosen it to or not. How could he trust himself?

Steve slipped his hand into Tony's and Tony clung to him.  He wasn't laughing at all anymore. He wanted to shove Steve down and lie on top of him, protect him from this other Alpha, re-establish his claim.  He didn't know what the fuck Frond had just done but whatever it was had been effective. She wasn't just a pop psychologist. She was a truly dangerous woman.

"--which is why I recommend a simpler approach.  Once dominance is established, less is more; severe discipline will generally undermine your own security.  Besides which, it loses efficacy over time. Think of it as a painkiller. To be used when necessary, but only then.  If you find yourself having to punish an omega more often than you're rewarding them, you've clearly got a discipline problem, and you can hardly blame the omega for that.  That's on you. You're the Alpha, you're in charge," Frond was saying calmly from the front of the room.

Several people were staring at Steve and Tony, wide-eyed, gauging their reactions.  Tony had mostly turned out Frond and was sitting with a perfect poker face, still holding on to Steve's hand, brushing his thumb over Steve's knuckles.  He couldn't fucking believe this woman.

"--don't want to leave any marks.  That reflects more on you than him.  The omega is an extensive of yourself; you should treat them with the awareness that clear signs of abuse reflect that you aren't in control and discredit your own standing.  Jenny, come here. Let me demonstrate the--"

Still talking.  Tony didn't dare turn to look at Malick; he just wanted to go back to their room and hide out for a while before dinner.

"--have to follow through on those threats.  Same as a child, really. You set the expectation beforehand, and then follow through.  Hence why I call my techniques Discipline in the Home and not Discipline in the Super Market.  A fully trained omega will see their home as a sanctuary; it's up to you to maintain the expectations and laws of that domain--"

Tony's eyes flicked down to his watch.  Oh, thank tech, she was nearly finished.

"--the right balance, and achieve the best possible, not to mention the most natural, relationship with your omega.  Thank you," she concluded. The room broke out into a smattering of polite applause. Frond patted the female omega that was kneeling beside her, the Jenny she'd used earlier for a demonstration.  Frond may have been tiny but she gave off a very lethal, Natasha-esque vibe, and Tony had already made a mental note to stay away from her for the rest of the conference.

Jenny leaned into her touch with a look of stupid blissfulness.  It made Tony's stomach turn. It was like her omegas were cult members who didn't realize they were in a cult.

He rose and tugged Steve's hand, eager to get out.

Maggie Frond was having none of it; she made a beeline for them, to head them off before they could finish.

"I hope you got something out of my class, Mr. Stark," she said with a hint of smugness.

"It was certainly very long," said Tony.

"I hear you're a man who's good at poker.  Will I be seeing you tonight? I happen to be excellent at it, myself."

Fuck.  Of course she was.

"...I don't think so..." mumbled Tony.

"I urge you to reconsider.  It's quite a lot of fun." Tony cast a pleading look at Steve.  Maggie reached out, took Tony's face in her hand, and reoriented it to look at her.  "...don't ask his permission . He's the omega. _You're_ the Alpha.  _You're_ in charge.  If you want to play, play."

"--I'm pretty good," said Tony.  That was an understatement. Tony was very, very good.  "I just... I'm still... considering..."

Maggie looked at Steve.  In the eye. She was one of the first Alphas at the conference to make eye contact with him without a hint of embarrassment or awkwardness.  "You have him awfully confused, don't you? ...it's a shame. I imagined the son of Howard Stark would be more dominant than that. Well, obviously, there's not much I can do for you two.  You seem very grounded in your ways. It was good to meet you anyways, Captain."

 _At least_ _she calls me captain,_ Steve thought grimly.

Her voice dropped. "You're a good omega, even if you're not very well trained." She gave him a deadly smile, then turned away, a nonverbal dismissal.

Tony yanked Steve's hand.

He _had_ to play in that poker game.

Fucking Maggie Frond.

"You're not a very good Alpha, even if you are very dominant," he shot back before he let Tony pull him away. Frond laughed, like she was genuinely amused. Steve might have just given her a compliment. But he would rather that than let the woman think he would just stand there and take her shit. His neck still tingled awkwardly and left him feeling strangely guilty. Steve swallowed, only dully aware of his surroundings until Tony pulled them into the first lift they found.  Neither one needed to consult the other; they both knew they were done with workshops for the day.


	13. Upping the Ante

Steve slumped against a wall in the elevator.  Finally alone, without everyone staring at him, Steve was able to release some of the tension in his shoulders.  Tony took the opportunity of being alone in the lift to scratch violently at the back of his neck.

"That woman," said Steve, "was _horrifying_. Don't leave _marks_? Jesus Christ!" He ran a hand over his face. Steve had thought domestic abuse was illegal now. (In the forties things were a lot more lenient. They used to hear their neighbours argue all the time in Brooklyn. Steve saw the wife come out with a black eye once. Bucky told him he shouldn't report it to the police. Steve hadn't and he hated himself for it for months until the couple moved out, and even after that).

" _Horrifying_ might be a little too nice for what she was," said Tony, tugging impatiently on his collar.  "...I can't believe Eric's so into her. He seems okay. Do you think he slaps Piper around? What the hell would he ever do it for?  Piper's so quiet and does everything he says..."

He lapsed into silence, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

Steve and Tony didn't let go of each other's hands.  When their lift stopped at their floor it took them more than a few seconds to actually step out of it.

Tony felt nothing but relief when they walked into their suite.  Gideon had spared no expense; there was an expansive living room and kitchenette, and in the bedroom, a bed large enough for several people.  There was no doubt a Jacuzzi in the bathroom. A vase of white roses sat on the table in the entryway and Tony touched one of the petals; they were indeed real.

The minute the door was closed behind them, Steve was pulling out the keys to the collars. 

Tony bent his head forward to let Steve take off his collar; the cool air on his neck felt amazing.

Steve undid his after he took off Tony's, dropping both collars on the bed. Steve practically sighed in relief when the weight was gone and grimaced as he rubbed at his clammy neck. His eyes widened when he saw Tony's neck, though. It was red at the back. It didn't look good; the skin had gone all puffy. "Oh, Tony.  You are _not_ putting this back on. It must be hurting so much."

"...it doesn't hurt... just... kind of... itches.  And stings," said Tony, scratching the back of his neck furiously. 

Steve went to grab a towel from the bathroom, dousing it in cold water before he brought it back to press against the nape of Tony's neck gently, cooling the heated skin. "We'll be separated for the whole evening anyway. There's no point you wearing it, not if it will hurt you. And if you're hanging around Frond more it's bound to get your hackles up." Steve's voice was laced with concern, his other hand gently brushing against Tony's cheek. He tried for a smile. "Kinda sorry I won't be there to see you beat all their asses."

Tony sighed with relief when Steve pressed a cold, wet cloth against it.  "I got it," he said, waving Steve away, taking the cloth from him. Tony didn't like people touching the back of his neck.  Not even Steve.

Steve forced a smile; Tony forced one back, then stood and slipped into the bathroom.  He turned on the sink to splash some water on his face. Steve had told Maggie Frond she wasn't a very good Alpha, but... that thing she'd done... that seemed like the sort of thing a good Alpha would know how to do.

Tony left the water running and called the only person he could think of to answer his questions: David Gleason.

"Hi, David.  It's Tony," he whispered, all too aware of Steve's super hearing.  He spoke as quietly as he could, the water running to muffle the sound.

"...Tony?  ...I can barely hear you, I think we have a bad connection.  Is it true you're at the AU convention? You're pissing off a lot of your fanbase.  What can I do for you?" asked David pleasantly, without any hint of judgement.

"...there's a guy named Richard here who mentioned you."

"Ah!  Richard McDermott!  Yes, he and I went to med school together.  Sharp guy."

Tony found it baffling that Richard and David, a conservative Alpha and a progressive omega, respectively, appeared to be friends.  Or at least colleagues who respected each other.

"Y'know how omegas have scent glands behind their ears?  Is that... is that like a... pressure point type deal?" asked Tony.

David chuckled.  "Yes, in a manner of speaking.  The scent glands behind the ears are at maybe a sixty-degree angle above the gland and they're connected with a bundle of nerves.  Not a coincidence. They express during mating and heat."

"...this woman, she... she pushed on an omega behind the ears and he went all dopey," said Tony, not wanting to mention it was Steve.

David sobered up immediately.  "...I see. Yes, they're an erotic zone; if pressure is applied the right way, it causes them to express and it basically makes the omega's body think it's in pre-heat for a few seconds.  It's actually rather tricky to do, though. You can't see or feel the glands from the outside, so unless you know exactly how to force them to express, you're going in blind. ...this woman wouldn't happen to be Margaret Frond, would she?"

"That's her."

"My advice is to steer clear of her.  She knows every trick in the book. And I'm willing to bet that she would love to get her hands on Steve."

"Thanks," said Tony, not adding that that advice would have been a lot better if they'd received it a few hours ago.

Outside of the bathroom, Steve's cell phone pinged.

_ > Heads up, Cap: Status Alliance heard about you and Tony at the conference and they're picketing the hotel.  Banksy and Ty aren't commenting on it but you're worrying a lot of people. Lay low. - NR _

_ > It's okay. I've got a plan. SR _

_ > It always makes me nervous when you say that. - NR _

Steve smiled faintly to himself, sinking back onto the bed with a sigh. He rubbed at his neck and stared up at the ceiling, which was ornate in an of itself. It felt so good to be out of it-- out of the madness-- for just a moment.  The conference felt like it was another dimension or something.  He let out a long breath and closed his eyes, liesteing to the water running in the bathroom. Tony's neck looked painful and he felt bad for it, like Steve had put it there... and he sort of had.

He thought back to the way Maggie had just pressed behind his ear. It was terrifying. What if people learned to use that in battles, in fights? Steve couldn't have floored Johann Schmidt if he'd done that to him. Frond was dangerous and Steve didn't like it. He usually considered himself someone who wasn't easily manipulated but she'd told him to stop laughing. And he had. He would have found it humiliating if he hadn't found it more petrifying.

Eventually Tony stepped out of the bathroom and Steve turned on his side to face him. "Better?" he asked softly and then reached out a hand to Tony across the bed. "Come here. I want a cuddle."

Tony shrugged off his jacket and undid his tie and shirt buttons, kicking off his clothes until he was in his underwear before flopping onto the bed with Steve.

He paused for a moment to look him over.  Steve was a walking contradiction. His arms were the size of a normal man's thigh, and when he wore plain t-shirts, which he often did, the shirts clung to the outlines of his pectoral muscles.  He was taller than Tony, bulkier, yet still so distinctively _omega_ , from the soft blond hair to the relatively hairless jawline.  (Steve maintained sideburns that had taken him well over eight months to actually grow.)

When Tony rolled onto his side and put an arm around Steve, he was all too aware of the tense muscles and wiry sinew under him.

Steve curled into his touch, tucking his head under Tony's jaw and against his shoulder. It was their usual position and allowed Steve to pretend he wasn't taller for a brief space of time. It was oddly comforting. He could practically hear Tony's thoughts. The man never turned his brain off but Steve could tell when his Alpha was getting lost in his own head.

If Steve wanted to shrug him off he could probably fling him across the room like Tony was nothing more than a kitten.  And yet Maggie Frond, all 5'3" of her, had somehow temporarily turned Steve off. ...was SHIELD aware you could do that? Was HYDRA?  ...or was it just that she had surprised Steve? That was probably it; he had been caught off guard. If he'd expected it, he probably would have broken her in half.

Tony held Steve, considering.  Should he try to do that?  ...Gleason had said it was tricky but Tony was a fast learner.  Frond's words were echoing around and around in his head: _Don't ask him permission. He's the omega.  You're the Alpha. You're in charge._

He reached behind Steve's ear and felt his neck.  Soft, warm, dry. Not a single bump or dimple to indicate where the fuck the stupid scent glands even were.

"...did _you_ know you had that spot back here?" asked Tony.  It came out a little more accusatory than he meant it to.  It wasn't like Alphas didn't have scent glands, too, just that theirs weren't hard-wired to any special mating gland.  Theirs were for the sole purpose of enticing omegas and establishing standing with each other. And speaking of establishing standing, how dare Maggie Frond compare Tony to his father.  That shit wasn't fair. He wasn't as dominant, yeah, but who the hell was? Howard Stark had the soul of a dragon.

When Tony's fingers began exploring Steve shivered. He didn't pull away from the touch, not afraid of it feeling again with just Tony here in their own hotel room. The concept as a whole still worried him out though. Did Natasha use it on her opponents? Was the kind of thing a SHIELD agent learned?

"No," he murmured. "Kinda scary," Steve admitted. "The thought of having an off switch, or something like that. Can you imagine how screwed up it must be when she uses that on them if they ' _misbehave_?' That's just not right."

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. "What are you thinking?" he asked, wishing he'd taken his clothes off too. He was probably ruining his trousers and waistcoat, creasing them as he leaned into Tony's touch. But if it was just an omega audience he was sure he could get away with jeans and a t-shirt for dinner. That would be more comfortable, at least.

"...I feel like I'm a loser, for not being able to find these glands.  And I'm thinking about... what Frond said, about my, y'know, about my dad.  ...he smelled like me, didn't he? But more dominant. ...I bet _he_ knew where these goddamn glands are..."  Tony couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.  "How the hell is it that I'm forty and you're ninety-four and neither of us knows any of this stuff?  These guys are supposed to be the backwards ones, not us." He paused. "...you gonna spend tonight with the other omegas?  You should try to talk to Rex... did you hear he was at the same place as Ty? I wonder if they knew each other."

"You're not a loser.  Jesus, Tony. You don't need a gland to ask something of me,  to calm me down...because you care about me. You see me as a person. They don't," Steve told him calmly and ran a hand down Tony's side, squeezing his hip in what Steve hoped was a comforting manner. "Yeah," he breathed, "I'll try and talk to Rex but I also want to be able to talk to the waiting staff, maybe. They're mostly all omegas. I want to see what their perspective is, too-- behind the scenes."

Tony nosed against Steve's neck.  He kept poking and prodding but none of his touches elicited the same reaction as Maggie's touch had.  He wondered what the omega dinner would be like... if they would all loosen up a little or be as bland and shallow as ever.  He wondered if they all just sat around talking about their Alphas. And he wondered if poor Rex would even be allowed there.

"...my neck hurts.  Equality sucks," mumbled Tony miserably.  "I know I'm not supposed to care about dominance, but I do, Steve.  I'm sorry. ...that Jameson guy, holy shit, that guy was like the most dominant Alpha I've ever met... at least since Obie..."  He paused and smiled against Steve's neck. "I wanna see him and Maggie go head-to-head..."

Steve sighed softly as Tony nuzzled against him. "You don't need a gland to get me at your feet Tony," he said, a voice a touch softer now. "That's what a real Alpha is. Someone who doesn't rely on biology to assert themselves.  Real leaders lead by commanding respect.  Not fear." 

He paused.

"Natasha could probably take on Frond _and_ Jameson," Steve murmured, his tone lighter. He reached up to run a hand through Tony's hair, watching the way the sun picked up on the hazelnut tones.  One or two greys at the temples peeked out.  "I think Natasha knows every possible way to take someone down," Steve hummed.  "It's hard to not find it a little funny, though.  Such a small woman being so goddamn loud.  Frond's got some mouth on her, huh?"

"Little dogs are always the yappiest ones," said Tony wisely, spooning Steve harder when Steve touched his hip.  "...d'you think Natasha knows about the scent gland pressure point thing? I assume she knows all that shit." He paused.  "I don't want to be able to do it to manipulate you. I want to do it because it... it seemed like you liked it. I want to be able to do things to make you feel good."  Tony was mumbling a little, clearly embarrassed by his uncharacteristic display of unselfishness. "I never got with men or omegas and now I feel like I have to relearn everything, like how to, you know, how do deal with your... you know, _parts_."  (The arvicolina; the prostate; the foreskin.)  (Tony lacked a bonding gland, had no idea where his own prostate was, and was circumcised.)

"I mean- I did like it, sort of, but then not because it was a random stranger doing it. You make me feel good _anyway_. Don't worry about a stupid gland. But if you really wanted help figuring out where it is, I bet Gleason would know. I imagine he has to know that sort of stuff.  And at least you're _re_ -learning stuff," Steve mumbled, almost sounding embarrassed himself. "I had no idea about any of this, Tony.  I was clueless.  In my time, omegas weren't really expected to... y'know, enjoy sex." He remembered the first time he went down on Tony, how strange the taste and weight had been on his tongue. It's not that he hadn't _liked_ it but it had certainly been a weird experience.

It occurred to Tony, suddenly, with horror, that Gideon had paid for their room and might have bugged it or something.  He froze a little. Oh, God, just imagine if Gideon knew he went down on Steve sometimes.

He fell silent, not willing to further incriminate himself by saying anything else.

"...Steve?  I'm gonna take a nap, try to sober up before dinner... could you rub some lotion on my neck?" he asked quietly.  Even with the collar off, his hackles were still itching like crazy. The back of his neck had the same sort of inflamed itchiness caused by bedbugs or fleas, both of which he'd become acquainted with in Afghanistan.  His offer, allowing Steve to touch his neck, was no small request, and Steve understood Tony was trying to communicate how much he trusted his mate without actually verbalizing it.

"Of course." Steve kissed Tony's cheek and then pulled away to rummage through the bathroom cabinet. He found some non-scented lotion and went back to kneel by the bed. He gently rubbed it into heated skin, hoping it would ease some of the irritation. Steve didn't know why he felt so bad for it-- it wasn't like he'd made the omegas wear collars in the first place-- but still...

Tony smiled at Steve, reaching out to stroke his hair while Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sleep well," Steve told his mate softly, moving to sit by him in bed, Steve running his hand through his Alpha's hair.  He petted Tony to sleep and Tony drifted off easily despite the heat on his neck.

When Tony woke up, it was to an alarm on his phone, and he sat up groggily, fumbling for it.

"Fuck, m'late?  Fuck," said Tony, dragging a hand down his face.  "...does my dander look any better?" He reached behind himself and touched the back of his neck.  It was still tender and puffy, but it felt a lot better. He was hoping it wasn't outwardly noticeable.  He didn't want anyone staring at his neck.

He scrambled out of bed, going to the closet for a new suit; the one he'd worn earlier in the day was crumpled on the floor.  "...can you grab me a shot from the fridge? I need to take the edge off..." Tony was still groggy and was having a hard time composing himself. Knowing he faced an evening talking with the likes of Malick and Frond didn't exactly make him feel any better.

Steve had taken time to relax whilst he could. He'd been pretty tense, even after cuddling with Tony in bed and watching him drift off to sleep. He had a bath (and the bathroom suite was gorgeous), filling the water with a strawberry-scented liquid that made the air around him almost taste sweet. It felt good to lie back and think of nothing. If Steve's neck neck twinged a little in an unsettling memory then he consciously ignored it. Steve definitely didn't want to think of the likes of Frond right now.

He'd dressed in black jeans that Aria had packed him along with a soft blue shirt that was suited to the warm weather outside. He preferred looser things to more fitted clothes, especially after Maria and Joan had been squeezing at his arms.

"You're not late," he assured Tony from where he was fixing his hair in the mirror, or rather, attempting to tame it. Steve turned back around to inspect Tony's neck. "It's a lot less pink than it was.  But I think you shouldn't wear the collar."

"A tie is like a collar," said Tony.  "...tie this?  Full Windsor or nothing.  Steve, can you tie a full Windsor? I only know a half."

"I know how to... tie a tie normally? Can't we just YouTube it, isn't that what kids do nowadays?" Steve asked, half joking. He knew that his terrible approach to technology was usually enough to make Tony smile.

Tony snorted.  "...tying a tie 'normally' _is_ a _half_ -Windsor," he said with the sort of good-natured snobbery Steve had grown used to.  "Forget it, I'll go casual." He threw on a dark red, pinstripe shirt, popping the collar to hide his neck and leaving the top two buttons undone to show off the rim of his arc reactor.  "...are you going to hang out with the omegas tonight? Am I suppose to escort you to that?"

"You probably should," Steve agreed. "They don't like me walking around by myself, do they? Seems to make them all terribly uncomfortable... you really wanna drink now? They're gonna give you free drinks all night Tony, and you gotta win poker, remember?"

"Trust me, Steve, drinking helps me win. Besides, one shot won't make a difference." He ran a hand over Steve's arm, looking down at the rippling muscle.

"I don't think that's how drinking works," Steve told him bemusedly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched Tony getting ready. He watched the dip and rise of his shoulders as he buttoned his shirt up. He smiled when Tony ran a hand down his arm, Steve's gaze flickering up to his face. The shirt didn't exaggerate the muscle but it was hard for anything to hide it.  Steve's muscles would always be bigger than Tony's, the serum defying nature, giving him a physique that he, as an omega, would normally never be able to achieve.

When Tony turned back for a moment to fiddle with his hair Steve picked his collar back up. He sighed, running the pad of his thumb along the suede inside. How could it be so pretty but serve such an ugly purpose? Steve couldn't understand collars, why they were _necessary_. They were pretty, like jewellery but as soon they became a marker for status they took on a far more sinister tone. Steve sighed again and put his collar on, knowing he couldn't step out of their room without it.

"...well... c'mon. Let's get you to your little omega kindergarten."  Tony looked at Steve apologetically. Rubbing shoulders with rich conservative assholes, drinking, and gambling were all things Tony excelled at. He felt bad that Steve was going to be in some other hall with a bunch of Stockholm-syndrome-having nobodies.

He offered Steve his arm after tucking his collar into his pocket just in case.  He didn't like the idea of leaving it off since they were trying to make a statement but his hackles ached and he recognized that leaving it on for the whole weekend might not be physically possible.  He slid on a pair of sunglasses. At least the conference was only three days, and when they waltzed out of the hotel, they'd have enough dirt to probably shut down the AU conventions for the forseeable future.  Plus, the protesters from Status Alliance would see the matching collars, and get it.

"...make sure you're careful," said Tony as they rode down the elevator.  "Not for you. For those other omegas. I don't want you to get them in trouble and them have them getting _disciplined_ later."  He stifled a yawn.  His hair was still a mess despite his attempt to get it in order.  "I'll come get you by one in the morning, okay? If you need me, just text, I charged both our phones, just in case.  Don't fight anyone even if they're being a dick."

Tony felt weird, being the responsible one, lecturing Steve.  The truth was, neither of them was especially responsible. Sure, Steve worked out and ate healthy and stuff... but he also was more likely than Tony to get into brawls.  Steve was a soldier and he often reacted physically without thinking. Without Pepper or Aria, both of them were, in their own way, loose cannons.

"I'll be careful," Steve promised. "I just wanna talk to them, not make them uncomfortable.  I've been careful of that. Or I thought I had. I don't think I got Donner into trouble, at least, but I managed to apologise to him for before.  I was grateful for that."

The lift doors slid open slowly. Steve squeezed Tony's arm as they stepped out. "Okay.  So. Where the hell are we going?"

Tony looked around a bit blankly.  "Er," he said, intelligently. He wasn't sure.  Fortunately, the elevator next to them chimed and J. Jameson strutted out with Joan and Maria on his arms.

"STARK!" he barked in his usual shout.  "Good to see you again! Good, you finally took that damned collar off, you looked like a fool!  Playing poker with us tonight? I'm a blackjack man myself! You ever play blackjack?"

"Sure, I like blackjack," said Tony weakly.  Jameson's mannerism was incredibly disarming.  He fell into step with the other Alpha; Joan and Maria both grabbed onto Steve's arms, beaming.

"Have you met China Bacardi yet?" shouted Jameson, leading them through the lobby.  One of the nice things about being part of Jameson's little group was that everyone else was giving them a wide berth.  "Direct descendant of the Bacardi founder! They're one of our sponsors! I don't drink myself because of an ulcer! I blame work!  You're a businessman yourself so you know how damned stressful it is!"

Tony hummed in agreement and interest.  He was a fan of Bacardi. "So China's the heir to the Bacardi fortune?"

"He's sixth or seventh in line, if I recall correctly!" shouted Jameson, pausing outside the doors to a banquet hall.  "Well, here's where I'm leaving you, ladies! Behave yourselves! Come on, Stark, let's go! Don't worry about the omegas, they'll be fine..."

"...bye, Steve," said Tony, shouldering Maria out of the way to give Steve a quick kiss.  "Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"HA!" barked Jameson, throwing an arm around Tony and dragging him away.

Oh wonderful. The girls grabbed Steve a little too hard and he was bit scared that the groping Tony had warned him about would finally materialize-- just not in the way he expected. "Bye," he told Tony, already looking a little lost as he watched the other loud, dominant Alpha drag his mate away.

"Come on," Joan squeezed his arm. "We'll show the way."

The room was teeming with at least fifty omegas. Steve hadn't under dressed, at least; most people were dressed semi-casually. He spotted Piper talking energetically with some other girls her age. She looked like an entirely different woman.

"Lets go get cocktails!" Maria squealed and darted off towards the bar. Apparently they were allowed to drink more with food.

"Hey!" Hal appeared with Lola at her side and patted Steve on the arm. "What the hell are you doing with those two?" she asked, tilting her head towards Joan who was following Maria up to the bar.

"They won't stop touching my arms," Steve said. "They're very... excited."

"You can say that again," Lola winked over her wine glass. Steve didn't like to think about what _that_ meant.

"What usually happens tonight?" Steve asked curiously, trying to change the topic.

"Eat. Drink. Hang out," Hal shrugged. "Around midnight we usually crash whatever the Alphas are doing. It's kind of a tradition."

"A tradition?" Steve echoed, moving towards the center of the room as Hal did. A lot of gazes were turning. "I didn't think they would allow that kind of thing..."

"Are you kidding?  Without us giving them unwavering adoration, they would probably eat each other alive," said Lola, grinning.  "I don't know if you've noticed but this conference is a giant knot-fest."

Over in Piper's little group of friends, there was a bunch of giggly laughter.  Without any Alphas around, everyone in the room seemed to have loosened up considerably.  There were definite cliques, though; Joan and Maria seemed wary of Hal and Lola. The omegas with stricter, more conservative Alphas maintained their distance from those with more forward-thinking Alphas, and there was a large group of very young omegas who seemed to be friends simply based on their age.  However, everyone seemed friendly with everyone else... with one exception. There was a young man standing in the corner sipping a drinking and holding a book in one hand, reading it, and everyone was ignoring him. Steve recognized him as Rex.

"The poker game always gets heated so we go in and break it up," explained Hal.  "You know how competitive Aces are. Besides, it's better to stop it before the stakes get too high.  Last year I think Donner got traded for an entire week... HEY! DONNER! HOW MANY NIGHTS WAS IT, LAST YEAR?"

"NINE!" yelled Donner from across the room.

"...but normally it's only a night, though," finished Hal.

Fred sidled up with a fancy-looking, brightly colored drink in his hand.  "Oo, are you guys talking about their little card game? Last year, mine won a night with Shimmer.  It was so much fun. He passed out after like three hours and we spent the rest of the night watching old re-runs of _I Love Lucy_."  He turned to Steve.  "Sorry, you probably don't get that reference.  It's a really funny TV show. Go look it up!"

"That's so gross, Fred," said Lola, making a face.  "If _my_ Ace came home with some other omega... well, _ugh_... I wouldn't want to be watching _I Love Lucy_ with her."

"Not even the episode where she gets a job in a chocolate factory?" asked Fred, eyes widening teasingly.

"Not even the chocolate episode," said Lola gravely.

"Is Tony playing?" asked Hal curiously, and all eyes turned to Steve, awaiting an answer.

* * *

"Are you going to be be playing, Tony?" asked Eric as the two of them leaned against the wall of the grand ballroom.

Two other Alphas' heads immediately turned with interest.

"Yes," said Tony firmly.

"...you, uh... you gonna bet him?" asked Eric in a hushed tone.  Even more Alphas perked up and looked over.

"Doesn't matter what I bet.  I'm gonna win," said Tony firmly.

Eric laughed and patted his shoulder.  "Man, I like your chutzpah! I _knew_ that Frond's class would be good for you."

Tony had the sudden realization that everyone was being a lot nicer toward him, or at least less hostile.  And he realized why. He had gone to Frond's stupid little lecture on discipline. She had humiliated Steve.  And then he had shown up at the dinner without his collar on. _They all thought he was coming around to their way of thinking._

It was a repulsive idea but one that Tony suspected he might be able to manipulate.

"Are you going to bet Piper?" asked Tony, his tone one of deliberate neutrality.

"No way," said Eric, shaking his head adamantly.  "I'm trying to have a kid... can you imagine if I lost her for a night and she came home carrying some other guy's whelp?  Ugh. Forget it. Most people only bet omegas if they've been sterilized or already had kids or are on suppressants. ...can Steve... uh... can he conceive?"

"Yeah," said Tony, stomach turning a little.  "We, uh... we... I guess we lost one recently?"

Eric got a look of sympathy.  "Aw. I'm sorry, man. You okay?"

"Yeah," repeated Tony, who didn't really know how he was about it.  He just didn't think about it, really. He hadn't realized Steve was, and its loss had no especially affected him.  Mostly it scared him to think how close they'd come to having a child. If they'd found out, Steve would have had to get an abortion, and the news would go crazy, and it would have been awful.

"So you two, are you trying, or...?"

"Oh, God, no.  No, no, no," said Tony, shaking his head with an awkward laugh.  "No, I've been meaning to talk to my doctor about a vasectomy, actually.  I got one when I was nineteen in Tijuana but I guess it didn't take... kind of creepy, actually.  I've had seventeen paternity suits so far but none were mine yet. Knock on wood."

Eric shook his head with a smile.  "So the rumors about you being a playboy are all true?"

"They're mostly true," said Tony with a nostalgic smile.  "I mean, things have been different since--" He stopped suddenly.

"Since bonding?" finished Eric.

"--Afghanistan," said Tony, gaze distant.  "Excuse me a moment." He pulled away to go find an omega waiter and order another drink.

* * *

"What do you mean, a night? _Nine_ nights? You mean--?" Steve's face clearly portrayed his emotions. Hal gave him a look of sympathy.

"I know, I know. It's gross; mine would never bet me. She doesn't even play but... she wouldn't," Hal finished quietly, stepping closer to him. She was in a green cardigan with foxes stitched around the collar. She looked too _good_ to be here. "So, is he playing?"

"I think so," Steve said. "...but he'll bet money.  And he'll win.  Tony's good at stuff like that. He's smart."

"Yes, those suits are marvelous," contributed Fred. Steve couldn't imagine what it was like to have a threesome with another omega your Alpha had _won_ and get no say on it. Did he actually enjoy it or was it just easier for him to pretend he did? How much did it screw with his self-esteem? Fred was 'cute,' but Shimmer was something else.

"Is he gonna bet you?" Lola asked, the wine clearly not holding her back.

"He wouldn't do that," Steve said, voice firmer than before. And the subject was immediately dropped by the girls.

"Never underestimate their egos," Fred warned him. "Some of them don't want to bet, but they also don't want to fold. Alphas are always selfish when it becomes a battle for dominance."

Steve frowned a little. "Excuse me a moment," he pulled away and headed over to Rex. The man's collar was like Steve's, classy but subtle. He didn't even look up from his book until Steve said: "Hey--"

Rex half jumped in his seat.

"Sorry! Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Steve said and then held out a hand. "Hey. I'm Steve."

"Rex," he returned awkwardly. He stared at Steve's hand for a moment before eventually shaking it back. He gripped Steve's hand tightly. "I saw you in the audience today. Didn't think this place was your kind of...scene."

"It's not," Steve assured him and moved to sit down tentatively on the bench next to him. "Look. I'm sorry but I'm going to blunt here. I was wondering if I could talk to you about conversion camps. I'm kind of looking into them at the moment."

Rex frowned. "You're not...?"

"No," Steve breathed out a soft laugh. "Nothing like that. I assure you. I know someone else who went the same place as you, Tiberius Stone?"

Rex nodded. "Yes.  I... the name is familiar."

"Richard's quite the character," Steve offered and Rex almost smiled.

"Yes, well, I'm never bored..."

Steve smiled back. "I can imagine."

"What do you want to know, about, erm..." It was like he was afraid to say it. Like they would find him if he did. Rex looked almost afraid. It reminded Steve of that Voldermort thing in the Harry Potter books.  People being scared of saying a name in case the thing found them. (Steve had loved those books. He tore through them in two weeks.  He hadn't sleep much during.)

"What they did to you in there," Steve said softly. "But I'm very aware this is not the place to have that kind of discussion. But I'm looking into camps, and anything you can tell me about them would be greatly appreciated. If I give you my number, maybe after this insane conference, you could give me a call?"

Rex hesitated and then fished his phone out of his pocket.

"I don't want Richard to know.  I, uh... I want to stay anonymous, though," said Rex awkwardly as he put Steve's number into his phone.  "Richard's got a good career and besides, Pine Hills was already closed. I'm a good omega. I don't like to cause trouble.  I was really, really lucky Richard adopted me after, you know. I don't want to make things difficult for him." He gestured vaguely toward his neck.  He didn't need to tell Steve that his arvicolinectomy had not gone well. While Ty's smell was eerie and uncomfortable, it was lovely compared to Rex's.  Rex's pheromones screamed at Steve to get away. There was an acrid, fear-like quality to them. It wasn't a smell so much as a feeling, one of repulsion.  The feeling you got when you thought you saw something evil out of the corner of your eye late at night. As if Rex's body had permanently gotten stuck in the state it had been in at Pine Hills; whatever testimony he could give was nothing compared to the torture that was burned into his body's pheromones.

Steve's "friends," or at least the closest thing he currently had to friends, were staring at him from across the room, unwilling to approach.

"I wasn't in the same class as Ty.  He's about two years older than me," said Rex.  "Oh, but Waffles, I knew him at Pine Hills! Back then his name was Stan.  You should talk to him, too. He only got a partial arvicolinectomy and I hear he's doing really well."  Rex smiled, clearly happy for Waffles. "They closed down halfway through his, uh, _conversion_ and so he got out without being too messed up.  I, uh, you know, they sterilized me and that's actually how I met Richard, he did all my reconstructive surgery because they fucked up my knot-- artificial knots were a fad back then, they don't do that anymore, I don’t think, thank God... sorry, I'm going to ruin your dinner.  You should get back to your friends."

Rex raised a hand to wave.

The other omegas waved back pleasantly enough, still not willing to come near him.  Like he was bad luck.

"It's okay.  I brought a book," added Rex, holding up the book he'd been reading.  He didn't seem bothered that no one wanted to be near him. "...that girl who was at our class, that girl... she's real new.  She was sold at the auction last year. You should probably talk to her. Infect her with your crazy equality ideas." He smiled a little.  "Gotta _break 'em in early_ , right?  ...I heard Gideon Malick talking to Frond about you.  That guy's obsessed. I guess he took it as a personal insult that you turned out to be an omega.  His claim to fame was owning--" Rex made air quotes with his fingers "- _-the omega version of Captain America._  Donner was a really big hit for years and years, and now you're here, and I guess he's feeling like you ruined his--" Rex made air quotes again.  "-- _investment_."

"Hey, Steve!" called Lola.  "You ever coming back?"

"Go," said Rex with a nodt.  "I got your number."

"Hey, Rex, whatcha reading?" called Lola, clearly not trying to be unfriendly.

" _Silent Spring_ ," he called back.  "Did you get a haircut?"

"Yeah, thanks!  ...Steve, c'mon!  Clover has baby pictures."  A fourth omega had joined them and was clutching a bunch of pictures, clearly excited to show them off to Captain America.

"Thanks. I'll be in touch," Steve told Rex quietly. "You have a good night, Rex." He nodded and offered Steve a small smile. Then Steve stood and reluctantly left as the omega turned back to his book, knowing the conversation was over.

Dinner came around soon enough. The food was lavish, like the kind Tony and Steve would eat when they went out to fancy restaurants. They served plenty of champagne with it and a lot of the omegas were getting pretty drunk.  The drinks were all light: champagne, wine, sangria, and Steve overheard more than one omega scoffing that it wasn't right for horseshoes to drink and that _they_ wouldn't get a drink even though they were allowed to in this setting.

Steve thought it was nice to see them let loose, having fun... to actually see more of their more of their personalities shine through. There was hardly any timidness at the table. People asked Steve questions about the war, what it was like to be with Tony, how he was doing after his miscarriage. He'd enjoyed it more than he'd expected to and almost felt bad for expecting so much worse.

It also proved a fear of Steve's however. That these omegas weren't really all coy and polite, they were _people_ , and they put on a pretense for their Alpha. Even Donner was smiling at the table, clearly with his own little group of friends.  (Donner and his friends were among the omega who refused to drink.)

After dinner they were given coffee and hot chocolate (or in some people's cases, more drinks).  The drinks remained light.  There were no mixes or hard liquors; the omegas were only allowed champagne and dessert wines.  Still, better than nothing.  Some of them (including Lola and Fred) had managed to get fairly tipsy.

Steve tried to approach Donner after dinner; he didn't look happy about it. "Hey," he said. "People over there were saying Gideon 'lost' you in poker for nine nights. Is that true?"

"I, er, yeah...it was a couple of years ago," Donner looked at the floor.  “But that was a long time ago. He wouldn’t let another Alpha touch me now.  I’m good. He wouldn’t bet me again.”

"Who did you spend time with?" Steve asked curiously.

Donner shrugged and gave the answer he expected. "Erm.  Justin Hammer?  Look, I should go..."

Steve nodded and then Donner was off.

"Would you like a drink?" The waiter with the floppy brown hair appeared next to him.

"I was wondering if I could thank the catering staff, actually. The food was amazing," Steve said.

The waiter's eyes glinted.

He nodded. "Of course, captain."

 _Captain,_ was it? Interesting.

The kitchen was, as expected, teeming with omegas. There was a few betas sprinkled amongst the chefs but every waiter and waitress was an omega. And when Steve stepped in behind the scenes they all turned to look at him. And they all looked _excited_.  Most of them were unbonded, not a part of this world. "Captain America," one girl whispered. "I saw you in the lobby; did you really got shot _twenty_ times?"

"Yes," Steve blinked, surprised at the question. He glanced around. The chefs who'd been cleaning up were watching him curiously. The waiting staff were younger and stared wide-eyed at him like he was a celebrity. Which he guessed he kind of was.

"Didn't really think this was your scene," a blonde girl piped up.

"It's not," Steve assured him. "And I'm guessing it's not yours either. It can't be fun to work for this."

"They pay a lot," floppy brown hair finally spoke up. "But no. It's not."

Another girl, also blonde, also an unbonded omega, pulled a face. "Some old guy touched my butt tonight. It was gross.  Ugh.  Aces."

"You could report that," Steve pointed out.  She shrugged.

"Yeah, but they won't do anything about it."

Steve's gut twisted uncomfortably. Maybe they were back in the forties after all.

There was a small table-- an island counter-- a lot of them were crowded around or perched on. Cautiously, Steve moved to take a seat, the staff watching his every move. "I was wondering, how much do they pay you?"

"Why would you wanna know that?"

Steve leaned forward.  "Well you see, I kind of have a plan for tomorrow night..."

* * *

Tony managed to find a delicate balance of martinis.  One every fourteen minutes, specifically. Two and a half hours into dinner and he was feeling much, _much_ better.

In fact, he felt a bit bad because all of these guys actually seemed pretty okay.  A couple had approached him to congratulate him on snagging Captain America, and another couple had come over to congratulate him on Iron Man, and he’d discovered he shared a mutual love of Fender guitars with some famous country musician who was there, and also found out that Eric was fixing up a classic Mustang.  It was hard for Tony not to like people who liked cars, guitars, and blonds. That was kind of Tony's _thing_.  The food was great and the alcohol was strong and everyone was being a hell of a lot more welcoming now that his collar was off.  Tony was actually _enjoying_ himself.

He, Eric, and two others slipped out onto a balcony to smoke cigars while Jessica Simpson gave a performance (none of them were into pop music; in fact, they all had a great discussion about classic rock and metal), and as the sun set, the four of them leaned into the cool night air chatting about life as Alphas who were sons of Alphas.  (The topic had come up while talking about the recent smattering of omegas coming out as such. Tony had mentioned Happy's theory about Eminem being the next reveal and everyone had heartily agreed; a short, skinny blond? Likely candidate, though currently, he swore up and down he was a beta.)

Richard, the guy who owned Rex, was telling his own origin story.  He had not presented as an Alpha early and had spent a miserable childhood with a father who kept trying to shock him into Alphahood.  Convinced he was indeed an Alpha, he spent a lot of time jumping out at him and tossing him into the lake behind the house in the hopes of getting his hackles up.

"--by the time I was thirteen, he'd just about given up," said Richard.  "My three older sisters were all betas and my pop was completely distraught.  Then one day we were taking a walk around the lake and I was trying to stay away from him 'cause I knew he'd chuck me in, and I walked through a goose's nest, stomped right all over these eggs, and you _know_ how territorial they are--"  Everyone was laughing. "--and I'm running around the back yard, covered in yolk up to my knees, getting chased by the biggest damn gander you've ever seen, hackles up, and my pop was running after me with the camera, going, 'I knew it, I knew that boy was an Alpha!'"

"Oh, boy, that's great, Rich," said one of the other men, Harry, wiping a tear from his eye.  "Me, I just came downstairs one day and announced it. And my mother said, ooh, how did you find out?  And I didn't know how to tell her, well, I'm a fourteen-year-old boy, ma, how do you think, I discovered my fucking knot, didn't I?"

Another round of laughter.  Eric had no story; he had been an obvious Alpha from birth without any big reveal.

"How 'bout you, Stark?"

"Everyone always knew I was an Alpha," said Tony.

"Really?" said Richard with surprise.  "Sorry, it's just, you're..."

"...not very dominant.  I know," said Tony. "Naw, according to Stark family legend, I was born with my eyes open and my hackles raised.  There wasn't any doubt." Tony didn't know whether this particular detail was true. However, he had seen an old photo from the early seventies in which his mother and Ana were laughing themselves senseless at a four-month-old baby Tony growling at Goofy at Disneyland, hair spiked and lip curled.  (Presumably his father had taken the picture. A contemporary of Walt Disney, his father had often referred to him as "damned wasted talent," and Tony saw it as a rare sign of affection that he had taken his infant son to Disneyland.)

The door opened and Maggie Frond looked out.  "Ah- _ha_!  I was looking for you!"

"Why, so you could unhinge your jaw and swallow me whole?" asked Tony grouchily.

She laughed lightly.  "Mad that I seduced your omega?  Don't take it personally, Stark. If you want, I can teach you how to do it.  It's not Steve's fault he was born that way. And, no, I didn't want to swallow you whole.  The first round of poker is starting and I wanted to know if you wanted to be dealt in."

"You didn't _seduce_ him."

"Okay, okay, whatever.  Are you in or out?"

"In," said Tony, pushing off the railing for the balcony.  "You guys play?"

"No," said Eric and Richard together, but Harry shrugged.  "...maybe just the first few rounds. I can probably stand to blow a few hundred.  ...I'll just end up blowing it on Jinx if I don't. She has expensive tastes, that one."

"Is Jinx expecting?" asked Maggie, holding open the door for Tony and Harry.

"Yes, indeedy.  Our second, my third," said Harry.  "My wife's been ecstatic about it; she wanted another baby in the house for a while.  I'm absolutely _drowning_ in estrogen."

"Better not lose too much, then, or she'll be furious with you when you come home," said Maggie

"...one hand can't hurt," said Harry.

"Maybe you'll win and you can put it toward the new nursery," said Richard optimistically, slapping him on the back.

"Last year, the grand prize was Donner Malick.  I suppose because he looks like a certain someone..." said Maggie, a glint in her eye.

"I'm only betting cash," said Tony firmly, but he felt annoyed at the idea of anyone winning Donner just because Donner looked like Steve.  ...maybe it wouldn't hurt just to get into one omega round, to win Donner. He didn't even want him; he just didn't want anyone else to have him.  That wasn't too much to ask, right? Steve wouldn't even have to know.


	14. DeSoto and Trickshot

Steve reappeared from the kitchen just as the omegas were getting ready to 'storm' the Alphas' den. It was a bizarre tradition, almost cute, Steve thought, if he could ignore everything else. They were tugging on waistcoats, gathering up purses, and downing drinks. Hal tugged on his arm.

"Come on! Where have you been? You don't wanna miss this."

"You better check how Mr. Stark is doing in his poker game," Fred told him, appearing at his other side.

"I'm sure he's doing fine," Steve said.

Fred smiled but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm sure."

"...he's not gonna bet me, Fred."

"I'm sure," repeated Fred, in a tone that sounded like he didn't believe Steve whatsoever.

* * *

Tony had done a lot of gambling in his time.  And he'd lost and won a lot of money. Obscene amounts, really.

But he had never witnessed casual gambling escalate so quickly as this did.  A group of filthy rich Alphas, all of them with dominance complexes... it got tense within four hands.

Not everyone was playing poker, of course.  True to his word, J. Jameson had stuck to poker, which suited him very well because Tony could hear him shouting "Hit me!" across the room.  But poker was where the real action was at and that was where Tony wanted to be.

The first hand began in the hundreds and rose to the thousands.  The second hand began in the thousands and rose to the tens. The third hand began in the tens and rose to the hundreds; Tony prompted lost four hundred thousand and found himself wondering, through a haze of martini, how in the fuck he was supposed to explain that to Pepper.  The most he had ever lost to gambling in one go was three million, and Pepper had been livid.

It was in the fourth round that the first collar got thrown onto the table, by a man named Mike.  "One night," he said, throwing down a collar. Immediately, half the table folded. Including Tony.  His hand wasn't any good and he was still reeling from the last round's loss.

He found himself getting dealt into the fifth round without thinking.

"Do you have two collars just so you can bet your omega?" he asked Mike, trying his damnedest not to slur his speech.

Mike laughed.  "Are you kidding me?  Every omega here has, like, a dozen collars.  They like to mix and match. ...don't tell me Steve only has one?"

"...two," said Tony, thinking back to the little velvet collar Steve had gotten.

"Great!  So that means you can bet him, right?  ...raise."

"I promised him I'd only bet money," mumbled Tony.

"He won't know if you win," said Maggie over the tops of her cards.  "I'll see it, Mike." She tossed a collar into the pile.

Tony set his cards down.  "Fold."

Everyone groaned.  Watching Tony Stark play cards had attracted a crowd.

"Don't let your omega boss you around, Stark," said Eric over Tony's shoulder.

"I don't!"

More and more of the hands were betting things other than money.  People were throwing in watches, car keys, collars... clearly showing off.  Tony was sticking to chips. Or at least, he was trying to. He won some, lost some.  He was currently breaking perfectly even, though he had apparently won a car and a little bit of cash and a night with DeSoto.

"Raise," said Malick, across from Tony.  He threw a collar down. "Two nights. ...that's more than fair, isn't it, Stark?  Two for one?"

"I'll see it," said Tony, tossing in some chips.

"No more chips, Stark.  Either throw in a collar or get out."

Everyone's breath hitched.

Tony hesitated, then reached into his pocket, pulled out a collar, and set it down.  Everyone stared down at the silvery collar with the glinting red stones, and a moment later someone yelled "HE JUST BET CAPTAIN AMERICA!" and everyone was crowding around eagerly.

More than half the Alphas at the table folded immediately, assuming Tony wouldn't take the gamble unless his hand was excellent.  Or perhaps they didn't want to win; a night with Steve was appealing but controlling him seemed impossible, anyway.

"Raise.  Four nights."

"...I'll bet one more night."

"Fine by me.  Steve's worth twice as much as Donner."

Everyone else folded.  Malick fanned out his cards triumphantly.

Tony set his down gently.  Everyone leaned in to stare.

Tony had bluffed.  His hand was not just bad; it was literally worthless.

Malick looked like he'd died and gone to heaven.

"You just lost Captain America!" cried Eric.

"No," said Tony.

"No take-backs, Stark!  I won him fair and square!" said Malick with delight, reaching for the collar.

"No," repeated Tony, looking quite a bit more sober than he had a moment ago.  He pointed. "That's not Steve's collar."

The room went silent and Malick froze.  Malick looked down at the collar in his hand.

"That's _my_ collar.  I never said I was betting Steve; you just assumed.  I said I was betting two nights. You won me. Not him."

Malick growled, dander rising; a man named Andy took his arm.  "Let it go, Gideon."

There had been a sudden shift in the atmosphere.  Once jovial, it had turned hostile. Half of the Alphas there were grinning wolfishly at Tony's trick and the other half looked thoroughly offended on Malick's behalf.  Everyone's hackles were up and the tension in the air was palpable.

And suddenly... right between them, there was Donner.

Tony blinked in confusion.  How the hell had-- why were there omegas here?

"Hi, Daddy.  Win anything good?" asked Piper sweetly to Eric.

Tony turned, absolutely lost, his dispute completely forgotten.

"Hey," Steve appeared by Tony's side. He put a hand on the other's arm; his Alpha looked a little lost...perhaps a little drunk. The rush into the 'den' had been strange, the younger omegas especially excited and giggly. Steve had hung back with Hal, not so eager to get in that they would have pushed through the throngs of omegas. When he headed into the room, finally, he could see Donner between his mate and Tony. And Gideon looked furious.

When Malick looked up at him Steve thought he might be in for some kind of shit. But the man said nothing as Steve made his way up to Tony. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, turning away from Gideon's gaze. He stared at the table. Why was Tony's collar on it? How strange. "What's going on?"

"...poker," replied Tony, feeling a bit dazed.  "What the hell are you doing here?" He shook himself out, but there was no denying he'd had way, way too many drinks.  "I, uh, I won... I won some money. And a car. And DeSoto," he said, putting a hand on Steve's arm for support. "And, um, lost some money.  And myself. To Gideon."

"As if I'd want you, you cock-sucking cheater!" yelled Gideon.

Tony gave a dazed smile; three Alphas were patting him and laughing, clearly amused by his brashness.  Eric reached over, picked up the collar, and handed it back to Tony. Tony looked up at Steve, smile widening.

"You look so good in blue," he said lovingly, reaching up to finger Steve's throat, to trace the line of his collar.

Suddenly Maggie Frond appeared.  "You just love breaking rules, don't you?"

"Yep . Anthony 'Rule-Breaker' Stark, that's me," said Tony, swaying a little.

"Want another round?"

"No.  Not gonna bet my omega," said Tony firmly, looking pleased with himself.

"I can teach you where the scent glands are."

Tony perked a little.  He really, really wanted to know.

...he could probably win...

"Try and touch me again and I'll break you hand," Steve told Frond flatly and the woman laughed, like the idea was cute. He stepped closer to Tony, who clearly had had too much to drink. The fact that he'd bet himself was pretty ingenious though, Steve had to admit. It was playing them at their own game. And he was also glad that Tony hadn't bet _him_.

He took Tony's hand and lead him over to the bar. He got him a glass of water and put it in his hand and told him: "Drink it."

Steve looked over to see a sheepish-looking Donner next to Malick. Steve breathed out a laugh. "As if I'd sleep with him anyway, over a game of poker. Jesus. I can't believe these guys really do that-- as if they have no choice." Once the glass of water was gone Steve got Tony another one.

Hal walked over with her Alpha in line. Her Alpha was older, had dark wavy hair, and wore yellow glasses that framed her face nicely. "Pleasure to meet you Captain, Mr. Stark," she said, voice terribly soft. "I'm Steph."

"Everything okay?" Hal asked, happily talking and looking around at her Alpha's side. Her demeanor hadn't changed at all. "Seemed like a bit of a commotion."

"Everything's fine," Steve assured her, his eyes flicking over to Frond warily. Then he saw DeSoto with his black eye. Maybe Steve could teach him to fight during Tony's won 'night'. He looked like he needed it.

Tony hiccuped softly into his water.  "Steve, can you get my-- my chips-- and car-- and omega-- and I wanna go to bed now," he said.

"I told you to stop about three martinis ago," said an Alpha next to his disapprovingly.

"I don't remember you," said Tony, squinting at her.  "And I would definitely remember you." She was wearing a red, backless evening gown with a plunging neckline that showed off the curve of her breasts.

"You got distracted because someone mentioned Trickshot."

"Who the hell is Trickshot?  ...and how come all these omegas have such dumb names?  ...no offense, Hal."

"Hal is my real name!" protested Hal, looking a bit offended.

"Trickshot was DeSoto's Alpha's old omega.  You had, like, a thirty-minute conversation about him."

"About DeSoto?"

"About Trickshot."

"...why?" asked Tony, baffled.

"Beats me," said the woman in the red dress, shrugging and walking away.

Tony realized he was a fuckton drunker than he'd originally thought.  He literally didn't remember that conversation at all. "...I think I need to go to bed now," he whispered to Steve.  Or at least, he tried to whisper it. He actually just said it in a normal tone.

"We'll grab the chips for you." Steph patted Steve's arm good-naturedly. "You just get him to bed."

"Could you tell DeSoto to come up later in gym gear and no collar?" Steve asked Hal.  "It wouldn't be safe for him to wear one."

"You gonna make him go on a run, or something?" she asked bemusedly.

"Something like that," Steve nodded. He wrapped an arm around Tony and lead him to the elevator. Just as they stepped inside Steph appeared, handing Steve a bag of chips and a collar. "Thanks," he told her and she flashed him a smile.

"Have a good night Cap."

A fan, then. Steph disappeared.

Tony staggered away with a lot of good-natured good-byes to the other Alphas, letting Steve drag him up to the room, feeling dizzy and content. 

Once they were upstairs Steve led Tony to his room and then to bed. He undressed him down to his boxers and carefully leaned him against the pillows before he went to grab him a glass of water. He gently sat on the bedside Tony, handing him the water. Steve reached forward to brush his fingers through Tony's hair. "Thank you for not betting me," he said softly and then went to get his key, undoing his collar and setting it on the bedside.

Tony ragdolled onto the bed and let Steve undress him. Mentally he was totaling his wins and losses; in total, he had lost $135,000 but had won a car that appeared to be '62 Studebaker, either a Turismo or a Hawk, which had to be worth like, thirty to forty thou... so really, he'd only lost a hundred grand.

From what he'd gathered regarding the auction, the average selling price for an omega went from two to five hundred grand.  With roughly twenty people, that would mean he'd need ten million to buy them all. There was no way he had that sort of liquidity just sitting around.

Tony hiccuped as Steve handed him a glass of water and ran his fingers through his hair.  "I promised you I wouldn't," he said, watching Steve take off his collar and feeling a bit bummed.  Steve looked handsome in the collar. "...I wanted to win Donner... I hate thinking about... about Malick with his hands all over him, thinking about you... ugh.  Sick." He looked down at the car keys in his hand. "Pepper is gonna be mad about how much I lost... at least I got this... probably a Hawk... y'know a Golden Hawk in good condition could be worth up to sixty grand..."  Something was nagging, hard, at Tony's memory. Something about the Hawk. He struggled to remember.

There was a tentative knock at the door and DeSoto peeked in.  "...hi," he said, easing into the living room.

Tony peered out the bedroom door at him.  "Oh, right, hi!"

DeSoto was wearing a loose, sleeveless shirt and a pair of shorts; Tony felt even more confused now.  Were they going to play basketball? The idea was so ludicrous he began laughing. DeSoto gave an indulgent smile at him, even though he clearly didn't get the joke.

"Give us one minute," Steve told DeSoto and then turned around, gently guiding Tony back into bed. "Right. You're going to sleep, or else you'll feel awful in the morning." He probably would regardless, but Steve figured the more sleep the better. "Don't worry about money right now. Pepper can rant at you in the morning, but if everything goes my way...you won't have to buy anyone at the auction," Steve assured him softly and leaned over to kiss Tony's forehead as he tucked him in.

"Noooo... Steve..." whined Tony, letting Steve tuck him in.  "...Steve, stop, _I_ won him... don't take my DeSoto... stoooop!"

He was out cold within a few seconds.

"Na-night Tony," he told him and then pulled back. Steve changed into his own gym gear and grabbed his phone and one of the suite's door keys before stepping out into the living room. DeSoto was looking increasingly confused.

"Right, come on, let's go," Steve said and headed for the door. DeSoto looked back to the bedroom, still confused.

He shifted from one foot to the other.  He didn't move when Steve opened the door for him.

"Where are we going?"

"The gym."

"...Why?"

"I'm gonna teach you how to fight. Or at least, avoid getting black eyes," Steve said and opened the door, holding it for DeSoto. "Sorry, I feel like I should ask, is DeSoto your real name?"

"--I already know how to fight," he said, a tiny bit defensively.  "I handed Waffles's ass to him. He got a lucky hit, that's all. ...and yes, it's been my real name for three years now."  He still didn't move. "I'm supposed to stay with Mr. Stark tonight," he said, not moving. "I don't want to wander off. My Alpha would kill me."  He looked at Steve up and down. Ever since being told to go "heel" Steve, DeSoto was clearly nervous around him.

DeSoto was lean and muscular, with a shaved head and pierced ears.  Wearing the sleeveless shirt, Steve spotted two small, pink, circular scars on his upper arm.  On his dark skin, they stood out glaringly. They looked familiar.

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Anyone could hand Waffle's ass to him. He's a kid," he stated flatly. DeSoto had the decency to look a little uncomfortable when he said that. "' _Mr._ _Stark_ ' is passed out drunk. So we can either sit here and awkwardly make small talk into the small hours of the morning, or we can spar. Besides, our relationship is like that. We don't trade partners for sport. God knows why you all think this is normal."

"A lot of relationships aren't monogamous."

"You don't usually _win_ your outside exploits," Steve pointed out. He was still holding the door open.

DeSoto was still not moving.

"Your Alpha would really get pissy if we went to the gym? You've been _shot_ before and he'll get annoyed if you walk around without an Alpha? You know how crazy that sounds, right?" Steve sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere like this. "Look, if you can fight already then great. You can show me what you got."

After today's frustrations Steve was honestly itching for a spar session. Although he couldn't go all-out ever in sparring; one punch too hard and he could kill someone.

DeSoto frowned a little.  "Maybe I don't wanna walk around without a collar 'cause I'm scared of getting shot again!" he said defensively.  "And-- and I don't even like fighting. I only do it 'cause he tells me."

There was a familiar thump in the bedroom; Tony had probably just slid out of the bed and onto the floor.

"This _is_ normal. This is how everyone acts.  _You're_ the crazy one," said DeSoto.  "I'm his second omega... I don't wanna end up like Trickshot.  No way I'm going out. Mr. Stark won me, fair and square, so I'm staying right here.  And-- and if you wanna beat me up you'll just have to do it here.

With that, DeSoto sat firmly on the floor.  He looked like he wasn't used to standing up for himself and seemed a bit surprised to find himself arguing with Captain America, of all people.

Steve let out a withered sigh. He went back into the bedroom and found Tony sprawled out on the floor, half conscious and mumbling. He lifted him up like he weighed nothing and then tucked him back into bed, the middle this time so he wouldn't fall out. "Yes, yes, I love you too..." He assured him. "Try to sleep. Stop wiggling so much."

DeSoto watched, wide-eyed, as Steve went to go tuck Tony back in.  He leaned over a tiny bit to peek in; Tony was making grabby hands at Steve, touching his neck, and Steve was shushing him and adjusting his pillows for him.

Steve stepped back out and almost blushed when he realised DeSoto probably heard him placating Tony like a baby...but he really was very drunk.

"How is this 'normal'? You guys have to have a weird little conference every year because it's the only place where this shit is normal. Even in the forties we could have called this behaviour conservative," Steve said and DeSoto frowned a little like he was only just realising what time Steve was actually from. "And I don't want to beat you up, Jesus Christ. That's the exact _opposite_ of what I want to do! How come you'll argue with me now, somehow you don't even know, but not your own mate? If you don't want to fight, then why the hell do you do it?"

DeSoto cocked his head when Steve mentioned the forties.  It was weird to be reminded Steve was technically older than him; Steve still looked like he was in his twenties.

Steve sighed again.

"What happened to Trickshot anyway?" Steve asked and tried not to roll his eyes at how ridiculous all these goddamn names were.

"...I don't argue with my mate 'cause we're bonded and I love him," said DeSoto patiently, as if Steve were a moron.  "I do it _because he tells me to_.  Why don't you get that?  _I like being a good omega._ "  He looked down, voice softening at the mention of Trickshot.  "Tricky was his first omega. He bought Tricky from some guy but Tricky was always trying to run away.  He was always fighting and stuff. He wasn't ever grateful even though my Alpha gave him everything. He complained all the time, didn't like him drinking, ran away every chance he got.  That's why he got me, originally, to try to keep Tricky in line. ...ha! That was a joke. Tricky was a better fighter than I ever was. And Tricky just didn't want to settle down. He had a brother that he got separated from and wanted to go find him.  Finally, 'bout two or three years ago, Alpha sold him off. Said he wasn't worth the trouble. Said he had littermate syndrome and wouldn't care about anything except going and finding his brother. Me, I'm an only child, so my Alpha never had to worry about that at all."  He traced mindless patterns into the carpet with one finger. "...the truth is, I liked Tricky. He was good company. When we weren't fighting, he was almost like a friend. He taught me sign language and sometimes we'd sign to each other at night so Alpha couldn't overhear us.  I was sad when he got let go but it's better for me. Now our bond's just us, and Tricky can't get me in trouble anymore. But I hope Tricky got a good Alpha."

"Poor thing," Steve murmured. He would have been like Tricky if he was 'bought'. He would have fought and scrapped every day, he would have tried to escape every chance he got. He sat down a little heavily, slightly horrified that DeSoto wanted to be 'good' for a man  who'd essentially bought a boy, held him captive and then got mad when he didn't _behave_ for him. "I wouldn't be grateful. If someone bought me against my will, no matter what they gave me, I wouldn't be grateful," he said quietly. "And I don't think wanting to be with your family is a 'syndrome', Jesus Christ..." Steve leaned forward, head in his hands. What kind of bullshit did DeSoto's Alpha tell him to make him believe that kind of shit?

"You argue with people you love. You...negotiate, you work things out. You can't just do everything he tells you and call that a relationship, that's like the definition of--" He could say _abusive_ , but then DeSoto would pissy. Steve thought about he and Tony arguing back in New York and was suddenly proud of that moment; _proud_ they could have those conversations. "Okay. You want to make your mate happy, sure, I get that...but what about yourself? You don't like fighting. You don't have to fight to be a good boyfriend." DeSoto seemed to find Steve's use of the term 'boyfriend' strange, frowning again. "If you don't want to fight, tell him and if _he's_ a good mate too then he won't ask you to again."

DeSoto gave Steve a small, patronizing smile.  "You sound like Tricky." His smile evaporated.  "It makes me happy to please my Alpha. That's just normal, isn't it?  He knows I don't like fighting. But I do it for him and it means more that way, it means more that I don't like it, 'cause I'm making a sacrifice for him.  We _never_ argue," he added, seeming rather proud of this.  "Him and Trickshot argued all the time, and look what happened.  He distanced the bond and sent Trickshot away and I bet Trickshot ended up somewhere real bad.  Don't tell me there weren't auctions in the forties." His voice softened. "I hope Trickshot found his brother.  But his brother was an omega, too, and he probably got sold off a long time ago. And everyone knows used-up horseshoes don't go nice places.  Us here, we're all the lucky ones." He hugged his knees and looked over at the bedroom door, and his lips quirked up in a smile. "You know the last three times I got betted off, the Alpha was too drunk to do anything?  It kinda all works out. That's what we gotta do, as horseshoes, just trust that it'll work out. And it does, usually, especially if you behave yourself."

Despite his toughened appearance, DeSoto seemed like he had an almost childlike mentality.  As if it had been a long time since he'd formed any real opinions.

"There were auctions everywhere in the forties but I never would have ended up on one. I wasn't the kind of guy you would bet over," Steve said. "That's the thing- Alphas can sleep with whoever they want before they get to us. Why does it matter if an omega's had an alpha before? It shouldn't. Your Alpha got to move onto you. It's not right that Trickshot couldn't make nice, just you like he has now."

It made Steve feel a little better to think about the fact that they were usually too drunk to do anything. But then Donner was bet away for _nine_ whole days. There would definitely be opportunity in that space of time to-- Steve shuddered at the thought. Donner seemed so sweet, so genuinely nice. It made Steve feel queasy, the thought of him being given away like that.

"What about before, your other Alpha, huh?  Weren't you good for him? Did he let you go?" asked DeSoto.  Everyone knew Steve had been previously, or was currently, bonded to another Alpha.  "...is it hard having two Alphas? If they give you two different orders do you pick the one with the stronger bond or what?"  He seemed genuinely interested. "...Mr. Stark isn't very dominant," he added, unnecessarily.

"I was awful for him," Steve said and smile ruefully. "But he didn't let me go..." His eyes became glassy for a moment, distant. For a moment he was watching Bucky fall over again. "He got taken away and he..." He thought of Bucky in the car.

_"Hey Stevie, we should go on a date tomorrow, some place nice. You like that?"_

_"Sure, Buck, I'll wear something blue. You like it when I wear blue, don't you?"_

He'd kept asking the same question over and over again. By the time they were at the cabin Bucky had asked him to go on a date about seven times and Steve wasn't almost crying for it. Especially when he realized the conversation was word for word from a day back in the forties. They'd had a fight, Bucky was trying to make it up to him...and it was in that moment that Steve realised Bucky wasn't really _there_. He'd stopped the car, bought Bucky food and called Fury whilst he pretended to pay for fuel that he hadn't even put in the car.

"...he never came back, not really." Steve finished finally, looking considerably sadder than he had before. "But Tony... Tony doesn't order me. He _asks_ things of me. My other Alpha isn't around, so he can't ask for anything."

"...I'm sorry about your first Alpha," said DeSoto quietly, reaching out to lay a hand on Steve's knee. 

"Can I ask how you got shot?" Steve said, knowing talking about relationships was about as good as talking to a goddamn brickwall.

"Oh, it's okay. It was just an accident. I wasn't in a war, like you."

There was a pause.  Steve didn't seem satisfied with the answer, so DeSoto elaborated, sounding apologetic.  "Okay, well, this was... when things started to get really bad. Alpha and Trickshot got into a big fight-- see, Trickshot thought Alpha was taking him to some conference in Iowa, where he was originally from, and Alpha decided not to take him after all.  Both of them started yelling, and Alpha told me to go take care of Trickshot. He stormed right out the front door, like he was an Alpha himself or something!"

DeSoto seemed genuinely shocked by the audacity of an omega walking out the front door.

"He said, 'Don't try and stop me.  I'm gonna walk to Iowa if I have to.'  We're in Rhode Island, and I said to him, 'come on, Tricky, you're being crazy, listen, your brother's probably not even there anymore, just calm down, if you behave yourself, maybe Alpha'll take you to the next one.'  And Tricky said, 'no, I don't care, I behaved all week for that-- that _jackass_ , and I'm going to Iowa.'"

DeSoto looked a bit nervous to repeat this criticism of his Alpha.

"I don't think he was actually going to go all the way to Iowa.  Sometimes he'd run off for a day but then Alpha would go find him and bring him back.  Uh, so, while we were arguing outside like that, Alpha went and got a gun--"

Steve must have looked shocked, because DeSoto scrambled to add, "He wouldn't _actually_ ever shoot us, not really.  He and Tricky were always fighting, all the time, and he made all sorts of threats.  I think he was just a little drunk and trying to scare Trickshot into behaving-- also, Tricky got so mad whenever he drank.  Tricky's father wasn't an omega, but he and his brother were, and his father used to drink and hit them and I think that's why Tricky was so messed up in the first place.  His father once hit his brother so hard he made him go deaf, that's why he knew sign language. Anyways, Tricky just laughed and said, 'Oh, really? You're gonna shoot me? You think it's worth going to jail for a spade like me?  Do it. I dare you. Shoot me.' And Alpha..."

DeSoto gave another one of his apologetic smiles.  "Well, he had real bad aim, he hit me by accident. _But_ it worked out because Tricky didn't leave that night.  But he sold Tricky about a week later."

Steve stared at DeSoto wide-eyed and horrified. He was quiet for a long time after he finished the story and couldn't understand why DeSoto had such unwavering loyalty to an Alpha who had _shot_ him. But then, Bucky had given him a miscarriage, and he'd gotten into a car with him. But that was still different- HYDRA had put him there, it hadn't really been his fault.  DeSoto's Alpha sounded like he was simply a terrible person.

"You sound like you're a good soul DeSoto," Steve breathed. "It sounds like you deserve an Alpha who doesn't shoot you by accident. No man ever turns a gun on someone he cares about." He briefly thought of Peggy firing a gun at the shield, before the serum, and had to bite back a smile. She always was an exception. A terrific, fantastic exception.

Steve went quiet again and then said, "I think you're right. I think me and Tricky would have gotten well. He sounds very brave.  Do you wanna sleep on the sofa?" he asked.  He didn't really think he felt like talking with DeSoto anymore. Steve clearly wasn't going to get anywhere and DeSoto clearly thought that Steve was a 'bad' omega, whatever that meant.

"It's okay.  I don't need much sleep.  I can stay up and wait for Mr. Stark in case he decides he wants me," said DeSoto pleasantly.  "Do you mind if I have a drink, though?" He got up and walked over to the bar himself; clearly, he didn't think Steve had any real authority here.  That was on Tony, but Tony was passed out cold. This must be like a vacation for DeSoto.

"You don't have many omega friends, do you?" he said.  "It must be really lonely, working for SHIELD with a bunch of Alphas and betas.  I know Mr. Malick oversees SHIELD because Donner told me so. He says it would be better if there weren't omegas, because they could get hurt.  ...it doesn't sound any better, your life. You got shot twenty times, you said. Most omegas here haven't _ever_ been shot.  Seems to me like it's better to be bonded and safe..."  He picked up a glass of rum and settled down onto the end of one of the sofas.

"He doesn't want you," Steve snapped. The childish part of him wanted to ask _why_ would Tony want him? He was a mindless, delusional omega with absolutely no spunk. And Steve liked to think he was quite good at sex, and (again the childish part of him) couldn't imagine someone like DeSoto being especially good at it. Tony liked personality, gumption; what fun would sex be if the Alpha did everything and the omega just lay there and took it? Tony loved it when Steve rode him or sucked him off. Steve could hold his breath for two minutes; could _DeSoto_ do that?!

 _Jesus_ Steve breathed out slowly. He didn't know why it annoyed him so much that--

Jealously issues. Ha.  A whole day of being told what a lousy omega he was was actually getting to him.  He should probably work on that.  Talk to a sane omega later, someone like Phil who would set him straight.

"I have a _lot_ of omega friends. I have like..." He counted off the top of his head. "Like five!  And two of them are in SHIELD and they're excellent agents. Malick isn't an agent and he's full of shit. Men like that have never been out in a fight. They sit behind their desks in their fancy suits and pretend they know what's going on. Omegas make good agents, just like Alphas and betas. We're not all happy as housewives; some of us want to make a difference. I like to think I did. Sure, I was shot. But it was a war, people were out there dying...I _lived_. I was lucky. And I'm glad I got to risk my life in service for my country.  I'm _honored_."

DeSoto listened to Steve's whole speech with a little smirk.  Being told he wasn't wanted was, he knew, simply Steve being jealous and protective of his mate.  He saw it all the time. He also clearly didn't believe there were any omega agents or, if there were, that they were any good.  And finally, he seemed to think Steve was delusional for considering himself lucky.

"Well, good for you," he said patronizingly.  "...if Mr. Stark wants me, I'll be here all day."  He sipped his rum, not budging from the couch. It was a dismissal.  DeSoto might have acted terribly submissive when it came to Alphas, but clearly, he had no trouble treating his fellow omegas like equals.  The sad part was that his opinions and ideas were clearly not his own, but his Alpha's. It was Stockholm syndrome to the extreme.

"Don't come into our bedroom," Steve told him simply and stood up, heading to bed. He'd tried to be nice to DeSoto. He thought he could teach him a few things, maybe they'd spar, get to know each other. But the guy kind of spoke to him like the /Alphas did...dismissively, as if Steve didn't know what was really good for him. And his _willingness_ to sleep with Tony was gross. Did he have no loyalty to his own Alpha whatsoever? Was there no shame?

In the bedroom, Tony had managed to tangle himself hopelessly in the sheets.  At some point he had wriggled out of bed to plug in both of their phones to charge overnight.  No matter how drunk he was, for Tony, tech was always a top priority. There were several texts on Steve's phone from the friends DeSoto didn't think he had: Tiberius had reassured him that Status Alliance was not officially releasing any statements on his "collaring" or being at the AU conference, and that the picketers were operating outside of SA's official channels.  Clearly, he had faith that Steve was up to something that would benefit omegas. There was also a text from Aria giving him a summary of the media cycle, and a friendly update from Natasha about SHIELD.

It was all good news, but Steve couldn't appreciate it.  The conversation with DeSoto had left him feeling depressed.

Tony was dead asleep and didn't move as Steve got into the sheets. He shed down to his boxers and then curled up against his mate, trying to ignore the thought of DeSoto outside. It didn't take him long to actually drift off in the end. It had been a very long day...and tomorrow would be even longer. And Steve was worried. if he couldn't get through to _one_ omega, how was he supposed to get through to _twenty_ of them?


	15. The Auctionees

When Steve woke the next day Tony was still asleep beside him. He grabbed his phone, replying to Ty, Natasha and Aria in thanks for their support and understanding.  He knew it looked bad, being at this conference, but he was also confident that everyone would realize he was trying to sabotage it by the end.

He breathed out a long sigh when he read Piper's text asking to find her sister.

_ > I'm on it. SR _

He sent Phil the name, asking if he could look her up. He got a reply ten minutes later, after he'd had a shower.

_ > Sure thing. I'll let you know. PC _

Steve smiled. Phil really was the best. He dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt (that didn't hide much of him) for the day. He called for breakfast for three, spotting DeSoto asleep on the sofa. He'd drunk a lot of rum. Huh. The bottle was almost empty...maybe he'd picked up his Alpha's drinking habits. Or he maybe he wasn't allowed to drink around his Alpha and this was a rare opportunity to indulge. Steve frowned at both possibilities.

Then Steve made coffee. He left one on the coffee table in front of DeSoto for when he woke up, and then took two cups into the bedroom, one for him and one for Tony. He set them down on the bedside and then knelt down beside the bed, gently reaching up to shake Tony's shoulder. "Hey, Tony," he murmured. "Time to wake up."

Tony cracked open one bloodshot eye.

"My head hurts and I wish I were dead," said Tony flatly, without moving.

The night was a total blur.  Open bars were Tony's personal kryptonite.  His whole body ached and he had a vague idea he had lost money and gained something else but he couldn't remember much of it.

Steve's smell was pleasant and there was no indication he was angry at Tony, though.  Tony took this as a good sign.

He reached slowly behind his neck to touch his hackles.  They felt fine.

"Did we get omegas all their rights back yet, or do we have to keep attending this conference?" asked Tony blearily, sniffing tentatively at the coffee.  "...can you carry me into the living room?" he asked plaintively, clinging to the sheets around him with one hand and reaching for Steve with the other. Tony had no intention of going downstairs to the convention any time before noon.  He wanted to pick at some breakfast, shower, and maybe nap some more. God, he'd really gone through the wringer...

"And bring me my phone?" he asked.

A moment later it was being handed to him, but not by Steve.

Tony stared at the other omega in alarm.  The other omega was standing within reach of Tony, but very obviously just out of reach of Steve.

"...what the hell are you doing here?  Steve?" asked Tony, looking to Steve. He had a moment of panic.  Had Steve _stolen someone's omega_?  That seemed like the sort of thing Steve might do, if he thought said omega was being abused.  Steve was always doing stuff like that.

Steve looked up in alarm when he saw DeSoto. "I told you not to come in here." Maybe if he liked DeSoto, he wouldn't have minded so much. But Steve didn't like him in their personal space, not such a creepy and willing omega who stayed awake half the night just in case Tony 'wanted' him...urgh.  Steve knew, logically, it wasn't DeSoto's fault he was how he was.  But he still didn't like him.

Steve didn't hesitate. He turned around and picked DeSoto up by the shoulders. The man was heavy but Steve didn't show it; DeSoto looked both surprised and alarmed. To Steve he wasn't heavy at all. He placed DeSoto outside incredibly gently and then plucked (what was actually _his_ phone) from the omega's hands.

Steve didn't bother to say anything. He just shut the door in DeSoto's face. More of their conversation from last night was coming back to Steve and the more he thought about it the more the other omega creeped him out.

He turned back around to see a very confused Tony. "You lost money at poker but won a car and DeSoto for the night. I tried to talk to him but it's like he's in a cult or something.  He believes all this Alpha Authority bullshit. You know his Alpha _shot_ him once, but he still thinks the sun shines out of his goddam ass..."

Steve grabbed Tony's phone and then handed it to him. "Here, I got you some water too. Have it before the coffee," he said, pushing the glass over. "You were pretty far gone last night. You fell out of bed at one point."

Tony was hung over and feeling miserable and Steve wanted to be able to look after him without some strange omega peering over them.

He turned around. He could still hear DeSoto shuffling about in the living room. "You won him for the night. The nights over. What the hell is he still doing here?"

"...it doesn't count," said Tony, running a hand over his ragged face.  "The first night doesn't count... because everyone goes to bed so late after the poker game... why's he here now?  He was supposed to be here Saturday night."

"Well, apparently he enjoys annoying me," Steve grumbled, clearly not happy at DeSoto loitering around. Their room was supposed to be their refuge from conference life; now they had nothing. Nowhere. "Tell him you don't want him and _maybe_ he'll go away."

Tony remembered speaking to DeSoto's Alpha during the night and remembering wanting to win him but could not, for the life of him, remember why.  Surely he had had a damned good motivation for wanting to win another human being. DeSoto wasn't his type, which meant there was something else interesting about him, but Tony could not think of what that could possibly be.  He was sure that, if he spoke again to DeSoto's Alpha, he could probably remember it, but DeSoto was here, now, and he felt like if he waited until later he would miss out on some sort of opportunity.

He was finding it too difficult to concentrate, however, on that particular mystery.  His thoughts were being crowded out by other things. Had Steve said DeSoto had been _shot_?  Did he mean, like, a vaccination or something?

"Sorry, he got shot?  Like-- like with a _gun_?" asked Tony, baffled.  " _How_?"

"His mate was pointing a gun at this other omega, 'the badly behaved one'. He was drunk and then accidentally shot DeSoto in the arm," Steve said.

Another memory was sludging its way up from the depths of Tony's memory.

"...I bet myself," said Tony.  He looked over at Steve. "I brought my collar.  Because I knew they would all pressure me to bet on you.  So I bet myself instead. I thought it'd... make a point. And Gideon won me.  I was trying to get Donner away for just one goddamn night but I lost. ...you don't think I'm going to have to actually spend the night with Malick, right?"  Tony's tone was one of forced lightness, but in the cold, sober light of day, Tony was questioning the whole stunt. He had assumed Malick would have zero interest but suddenly he was wondering if Malick might swallow his pride and actually try to make Tony make good on his promise.  "I mean... I mean, Malick's a politician, he wouldn't... right? He wouldn't treat me like an omega. Right?" pressed Tony, seeking reassurance. He tried to force a smile. "--not that it matters, I made my point, right, and it wouldn't be the first time that--"

Tony cut himself off and, with a shocking level of dexterity, jumped out of bed, shot toward the bathroom, and seconds later was vomiting violently into the toilet.

After the initial bout, he remained kneeling, dry heaving, the heaves eventually subsiding into heavy panting.  He sat back, still within lunging distance of the bowl.

Steve was actually fairly used to this behavior.  Tony's hangovers always upset his stomach more than his head.  Part of his recovery usually involved puking. Truthfully, for a man his age, the recovery process was terrifyingly streamlined; once he purged, Tony could usually be expected to be drinking again in less than six hours.  Then again, it wasn't too surprising, considering his genetics. Steve had seen Howard's drinking habits and knew that Tony's father had had the same sort of remarkable ability to get himself to the border of alcohol poisoning, throw up, drink a glass of water, and declare himself better and ready to go back to partying.

He watched with a sigh as Tony bolted out of bed and to the toilet. He went to go get him a glass of water, holding it out do  Tony when he was done.

"I don't think you're Gideon's type," Steve murmured. "He might try and spent time with you, try and covert you or something but he definitely won't try and sleep with you," he assured him. When Tony had finished throwing up and drunk the water he held out a hand to help him stand.

"Let's get you in the shower," Steve said, running a hand through Tony's hair gently before he moved to turn on the shower.

Trembling and sweating slightly, Tony took Steve's hand and let him haul him to his feet.  After all this time, he was still in awe at how remarkably strong Steve was, at how easily to pulled Tony up, like a parent swinging a child.

Selfishly, sometimes he wished Steve were smaller.

He knew Steve's history.  Hell, it was on display in museums.  He knew that, before the serum, Steve had been small and sick and weak, and he didn't want him to be any of those things.  Just small _er_ , maybe.

There was a tentative knock on the door.  Tony could practically hear Steve's teeth grinding over the pattering spray of the shower.

"...I'll handle him," he reassured Steve, patting his chest.

He opened the door and there was DeSoto, hovering.

"...DeSoto.  ...like the street in Los Angeles," said Tony.  "...look, I know I won you and all, but your services aren't needed.  You can scram." He made a shooing motion with his hand.

DeSoto took one step back, but only one.  "...I can't go back to my Alpha. If I showed up tonight he would think I wasn't holding up his end of the bargain.  He'd get mad at me," said DeSoto. Under his breath, he added sulkily, "According to him you were very interested in having me last night..."

Tony could only vaguely recall talking to DeSoto's owner-- shit, _Alpha_!-- last night.  Couldn't even remember the guy's name.  Sean? Mike? Something really basic like that.  He knew they'd talked about DeSoto but he couldn't for the life of him discern why he would be interested.  DeSoto wasn't his type. Whatever had intrigued him the night before was lost now.

"...you're not my type," said Tony, out loud.  "I'm... the thing is, I'm not really into men."

"Steve's a man."

"Yes, but Steve's an omega."

"I'm an omega."

Fuck.

"Look, you can stay here if it'll keep you from getting _shot_ again, but I don't  want to boss you around or sleep with you.  You can just hang out in the living room and watch TV and if your Alpha asks you can tell him we got up to all sorts of depraved things, but I really don't want you.  If you stay here, it's for your benefit, not mine... aw, geez, come on, don't..." DeSoto's face crumpled and he literally looked like he wanted to cry at being told he wasn't wanted.  "...I mean, I'm sure there's... _something_ that I was interested in... I mean, you seem... like... like you're a good omega and all..." said Tony, awkwardly.  He had no idea how to deal with criers.

DeSoto's face lit up.

"...okay... so... so just to be clear, I don't want anything, okay?  Just... give Steve space, and stay out of the bedroom, and have fun, watch TV, lounge around, chill out.  Okay? ...uh... good boy." Tony patted his shoulder awkwardly.

DeSoto looked delighted at this tiny semblance of praise.

Tony felt weird.  He couldn't imagine Clint behaving like this, even with Natasha.  Every omega at this conference was so weird. Steve was the _least_ weird one, and he was a century old and pumped full of experimental chemicals.

Steve had to wait for Tony to shower and get ready before he could venture outside. It was frustrating to feel so penned in, especially wit DeSoto lounging around in the living room. It never occurred to Steve that omegas oppressing _each other_ would be an issue, but he guessed it was. He didn't know how he was going to get through to all the omegas in the pen today - the ones up for auction - he could only hope that because they weren't bonded they stood more of a chance of hearing his message. Maybe Steve had to more honest with them. DeSoto had asked about Bucky, but Steve hadn't really told him anything. DeSoto laid to bare everything, even getting shot. Steve could still be more up front with the omegas here... even with the shadow of SHIELD confidentiality hanging over him.

He ate his breakfast whilst Tony showered (a full English) and flicked trough some of the articles had Aria had linked him:

_Stark and Rogers: an abusive relationship?_

_Captain America...IN A COLLAR?!_

_Nation's favourite omega role model in the dust!_

Steve sighed. He hoped that they filmed the auction later. He'd like what he had planned to be photographed, or filmed, or at least preserved in some way. He wanted proof that they'd done some good here. He didn't want it to look like they were being polite or playing along for the whole thing. It felt too...complicit.  He wanted the world to see and understand that, if Steve Rogers ever appeared complicit, it was only part of a greater ruse.

Tony brushed his teeth in the shower and washed his hair, feeling a bit better.  When he was hungover, he took his showers at a lukewarm temperature; the coolness felt good.

Tony stepped out in a towel and Steve watched as a bead of water escaped from his hair and slipped over the bump of his collar bone and down his chest. His hands itched to draw for a brief moment.

He had already grabbed a towel, mind still churning, trying to recover the previous night's memories.  He knew he'd gotten plenty of facts of interest but he could not remember a single one. The things that stood out were how _human_ everyone was.  The men showing off their baby pictures, the women swapping stories of home improvements since last year's conference, shared laughter and memories and experiences.  These people didn't seem like monsters but their thought processes were so fucked up. Tony almost felt like they needed saving as much as their omegas; most of them seemed to have fond, indulgent attitudes and it was creepily familiar to Tony, because that's exactly how his father had always spoken of Jarvis.  Tony had certainly never considered their relationship anything other than good and mutually beneficial.

Then again, he hadn't realized Jarvis wasn't even getting paid.

He was lost enough in thought that he wandered into the living room and kitchenette in his towel, forgetting all about DeSoto.  He winced a little at the way those big, chocolate--brown eyes turned to him, and he resisted the urge to cover up his arc reactor.  He had grown used to wearing a towel slung low on his hips around Steve. That was how he'd worn towels before Afghanistan. Afterwards, he had always worn them under the arms.  But Steve had turned the arc reactor into a thing of beauty. Also, it was no longer slowly killing him, so he felt a bit more comfortable about it. But he didn't like when strangers ogled.

"Can you take me down to the pen when you're dressed?" Steve asked. "Are you...feeling any better?" Steve could never be sure with Tony's hangovers; they were unpredictable.

"I feel much better," Tony reassured Steve.  "...I'm just gonna have some toast or something to settle my stomach and then we can go down to--"  DeSoto had already sprung to his feet. "--I can toast bread, DeSoto, sit back down-- go down to the conference.  DeSoto, when do the auction... people... when do they show up?"

"Earlier morning," said DeSoto.  "They hang out in the hospitality suite all day.  It helps, you know, the Alphas aren't allowed to talk to them, but they let the omegas talk to them and then we can tell our Alphas if they're worth buy-- if they should bid.  You know, if they seem good and we get along and everything."

"...were _you_ auctioned off like that?" asked Tony.

"No, my dad sold me.  I had two older brothers who were Alphas.  Dad was an Alpha and Mom was a beta. Dad figured she'd cheated and they broke up and everything over that.  They _hated_ me.  They were glad to get rid of me and I was happy to leave 'cause they were always shoving me around and stuff."

"Well, that's fucked up," said Tony calmly, bending down and rooting around the fridge.

"What happened to your neck?"

Tony froze.

"Are you an acer?"

"...does this _look_ like a bite mark to you?" spat Tony, rising and glaring at DeSoto.  His dander was up, which only highlighted the mark.

"No," said DeSoto meekly, shrinking a little at his tone.

"...it was a lab accident.  That's all. Okay? Work-related.  That's it." Tony went back to rooting around in the fridge, perhaps a little more aggressively than before.

DeSoto appeared to being enjoying himself, even with Tony's telling off. Maybe he was enjoying not being around his Alpha, having a change of scene...or maybe he thought he really was a 'good' omega and thought he was setting the right kind of example for Steve. Whatever the reason, it bothered Steve...just like the pink scars on the man's shoulder. He knew him and Tony screwed up and sometimes upset each other but the thought of fighting, of Tony _shooting_ at him-- that was horrible.  There was nothing Steve could imagine that would ever throw them into that sort of conflict.

"What kind of omegas are they?" Steve asked and DeSoto blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"What kind of age? You know, what kind of... upbringing and stuff."

"There's never any older than twenty."

Steve nearly choked on his coffee.

"But all the men here are like at least thirty years old!"

DeSoto shrugged. "And? You're with Mr. Stark, and he's a lot older than you."

Steve and Tony exchanged a look.  Steve appeared to be in his twenties and Tony, recently turned forty, was showing his age, especially with the hangover.

"Yes, well, technically I'm ninety," Steve pointed out impatiently.

"They're usually come from semi-affluent families. Friend of a friend type of deal. None of the Alphas here would usually put their kid or direct relative into this kind of auction. It's unpredictable, what kind of Alpha you might end up with.  Anyway everyone here has money so if their kid came out as a breeder they could just send them to a conversion camp.  The zeros who are here are usually here 'cause someone knew someone.  You know?"

"Right," Steve said, finishing the last of his coffee. He just wished Tony would get dressed already and they could do. DeSoto was still freaking him out. He somehow managed to make Steve feel uncomfortable in his own skin. His and Tony's age difference wasn't weird, was it? Besides, it wasn't like he was still in his goddamn _teens_ when they got together...

"...I mean, it's not _that_ weird," said Tony awkwardly.  He could feel Steve's upset and it bothered him because, well... Tony's last girlfriend before Steve had been nineteen.  And the one before that, twenty-three. Tony didn't consider it creepy; he liked beautiful women and besides, _they_ approached _him_ , and also, ever since he'd hired Pepper, she'd been screening them, getting a driver's license.  (Tony's earlier system involved going "You eighteen?" while putting on a condom.)

"They're happy to be here.  They're moving up. They're going to good homes, with Alphas who protect them," said DeSoto.

"Except it's illegal to have arranged bondings and it's illegal to sell people," said Tony, leaning his elbows on the counter and pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

"Well, if they don't hit it off, they don't have to get bonded," said DeSoto.  "Every year at least one or two are returned. The auction's only for a little while, you know, a courting thing.  _That's_ not illegal.  Scentings are legal."

"Scenting?"

"You know, to see if you're compatible."

"How the hell can you tell if you're compatible--" began Tony, but stopped.  He hadn't known a goddamn thing about Steve when they bonded. They'd been scent-mates.  Independent of higher brain function, their body chemistries had been compatible and they'd bonded based purely on scent.

He understood. 

"I'm gonna go get dressed," said Tony grouchily. His morning routine was being rather messed up by DeSoto's presence and Steve seemed eager to leave.  "DeSoto, do you want to come down and hang out with the other omegas, or stay here?"

"I like seeing my friends," said DeSoto cautiously.

"Okay, great. Both of you throw on a collar, I'll go get dressed... hey, DeSoto!  Do you know how to tie ties? I mean, other than half-Windsors..."

DeSoto looked tickled to finally be of use.  "Yes, sir! Four different knots."

"Okay, great.  ...don't follow me, I can get dressed on my own, seriously, I just need you to tie the tie when I come out..."

Steve's phone rang; it was Clint.

"Why do act like a servant?" Steve asked before getting up and walking over to fetch his phone. DeSoto scowled.

"Just because you're a bad omega doesn't mean you  have to be mean to me," he said. Steve rolled his eyes and turned to look at him over his shoulder.

"Hey Clint," he put the phone to his ear. "What's up?"

"Er, Steve. _'What's up?'_ I've read the news. Has Tony snapped over the last Bucky fiasco, or what?"

"Oh? No, not at all. We're just here to piss off Gideon Malick," Steve said. "He sent us the tickets as a joke." DeSoto couldn't help but listen and was clearly interested in what he was hearing. "He bought us a very nice suite. Must have cost him a fortune. Did you know he bought his omega because he _looked_ like me?"

"You know, there's so many things in that sentence that freak me out...I don't know where to start."

Steve almost smiled. "You should try being here. It's crazy."

"You're the crazy one," DeSoto muttered.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Well, Tony played poker; they bet each other's omegas. We got someone's for the night, thought it would be _nice_ to give him a break, except he didn't want one." Steve sent DeSoto a look and the omega looked just about ready to stick his tongue out at Steve. The blond sighed. "Anyway, how are things with you?"

"Oh.  They're okay.  I, uh... SHIELD gave me a new assignment so I'm back in the field.  And, thank God, I've got my hearing aid back. Actually, funny thing, it's an old assignment.  You remember how I was put on guard duty for Project PEGASUS, out in Mojave? Yeah, I'm doing that again.  It's okay. Two weeks on and then four days off, shift work, so I'm getting some time with the kids. They haven't reassigned Nat yet... they're kind of harder on her than me, you know, since she's _in charge_..."

No doubt Clint was rolling his eyes.

"But I wanted to let you know, off the record, that they took _him_ here.  He's in cryo.  He went really peacefully.  ...thought you might want to know that.  But if anyone asks, you have no idea where he is, okay?"

Tony walked out of the bedroom, tie slung over his shoulders.  DeSoto hurried over and began tying it for him with a look of intense concentration.  Despite all his faults, one thing was for sure: he was a hell of a lot better at ties than either Steve or Tony was.

Steve went quiet for a moment. He moved to sit down, his other hand rubbing over his face. "Thank you for letting me know Clint. I appreciate it," he murmured. For some odd reason it comforted him, knowing that Bucky in his little freezer box had Clint close by...it was better than thinking of him all alone, in the middle of nowhere. "Look. Me and Tony are about to head out, so I better go...but thanks for keeping me updated Clint, and I'm glad SHIELD aren't being too awful."

"Have fun Steve. Or...don't. Good luck with whatever the hell you're doing there."

"Thanks," Steve laughed. "Think I'm gonna need it." Then he hung up, pushing his phone into his pocket before he moved to grab his collar. He was putting it on when DeSoto spoke up.

"You lock it _yourself_?" he asked, clearly fascinated.

"Er, yes?"

"But...then what's the point?"

Steve looked to Tony. He was fed up of dealing with this.

Tony put a gently hand on Steve's shoulder.  "Come on, DeSoto. Let's go downstairs to mingle.  I'll pick you up at the end of the day and you can sleep on the couch, okay?  Just think of this as a mini-vacation."

DeSoto stared blankly but followed Tony submissively.

Tony held up his own collar to Steve.  "You want to do the honors? ...my hackles feel a lot better.  I think as long as we don't leave it on more than twelve hours I can handle it.  ...anything you want me to do while you're off in omegaland?"

DeSoto's eyes traveled back and forth, interested in the way they talked casually to each other.

"Try not to go insane?" Steve teased gently. He was careful with the collar, feeling bad for closing it over still-pink skin. Tony's neck was far less swollen but Steve didn't think that would last long.  His own collar didn't leave a mark on him, it being custom made and all. But no collar was ever made with hackles in mind. "And try not to let Frond bother you. She's creepy." He kissed Tony's cheek.

They headed downstairs. Fortunately another couple got into the lift with them so it wasn't as awkward as it could have been. Steve was getting almost nervous at the thought of talking to the omegas up for auction. How the hell was he supposed to convince them they were better than all this when he had a whole night with DeSoto and couldn't?

He sighed as they stepped out, spotting Hal in the 'pen' as they moved closer to it. She was talking to...Donner, much to his surprise. Huh.

"You leaving them here?" the beta in the 'gateway' asked.

"Yeah, thought I would give myself a break.  You know omegas, always being all helpful and everything," said Tony sarcastically.

The beta smiled, clearly not getting it.

Tony leaned in to give Steve a quick nuzzle on the jaw.  Because Steve was taller, Tony often missed the mark for kisses, but it was fine.  It was their thing at this point.

"See you guys.  Try not to have too much fun in the VIP section," said Tony, leaving the two of them in the little sectioned-off area.

He wasn't sure what to do without Steve here, exactly; he would normally make a beeline for the bar but his stomach was still a bit unsettled.  He checked out the program to see if there was anything good. _Omegas in the Workplace_ sounded like it would be hilariously inappropriate, so Tony strode off to go check it out.  If it sucked, he could go get some chow and maybe hang out around the vendor hall chatting up businessmen who supported this kind of bullshit.  Tony had already IDed several people and companies he would no longer allowed Stark Industries work with. Pepper would be that weird mixture of delighted and infuriated, no doubt.

In the omega pen, everyone looked over at Steve with some interest.  Just as the Alphas had warmed to Tony during the previous night, many of the omegas seemed less wary of Steve today.  DeSoto, of course, immediately broke away from him to speak to someone else. There were still plenty of people here who thought he was a dangerous radical and turned away from him quickly, as if his radical ideas about being equal to his Alpha were embarrassing or contagious.

"Hey Steve! How was your night with DeSoto?" Hal grabbed his arm, pulling him over. Donner looked uncomfortable. Hal's eyes were glinting. "You get him all independent and thinking on his own? Will his Alpha be horrified?" Hal's collar was white and thin today, barely even visible. Steve was sure he wouldn't be able to get away with something like that; they wanted it to be clear on Captain America.

"I don't think me and him really saw eye to eye," Steve said diplomatically. He glanced over at the omegas for auction. They were all dressed in pale, simple clothes. Their hair was done up or slicked back and they wore almost no make up. They were as they would be, day to day, a clear example of the 'product.' Steve reeled internally.

Hal snorted. "Yeah. Doesn't surprise me."

Donner was staring at the floor. "Mr. Stark made Gideon real mad," he said and Steve immediately felt bad for it.

"I'm sorry if you got the backlash from that," he said, and he meant it. Steve glanced over at the auctionees. "Do you think... do you think I could go talk to them? Or do you think I'm a no-go for them too?"

Hal shrugged and patted his arm. "There's only one real way to find out."

Donner didn't raise his eyes, but added to Hal's comment: "They don't have any Alphas to get mad at them, yet."

"There you go, dude," said Lola.  " _That_ one's been getting most of the attention."  She nodded toward a woman with brown hair that tumbled down her back like a lion's mane.  She wasn't particularly short, nor tall, neither fat nor thin nor fit. In fact she was rather plain, aside from the incredible hair.  Clearly, efforts to pull it back had been in vain. There was, sure enough, a tiny crowd around her. The auction crowd was sticking close together, but some along the edges were mingling with the rest of the omegas.  There were about five who were chatting with the woman, who was standing there clasping a glass in both hands, nodding and sipping occasionally. Then she turned and Steve saw the interest had nothing to do with the hair at all; she had one brown eye and one blue eye.

"I think it's sort of monstrous," said Fred.

"Fred!  That's a terrible thing to say!" said Lola.

"...it's just an _opinion!_ I'm sure she's _nice!_ I just think it's unsettling.  You know, like how Rex is. ...which eye do you look at, anyway?"

"You're a jerk, dude."

Steve spotted Piper talking animatedly with another young girl in the auction group, a girl with long, blond pigtails who looked like she and Piper ought to be at the mall cracking bubblegum and talking about boys together.

"I think Fourteen's going to be this year's high bidder," said Fred.  "Eyeballs aside, Fourteen is gorgeous."

"Don't call her Eyeballs," snapped Lola.  "She has a name, and it's number Twelve."

"Three reminds me of Ashtray," said Hal wistfully.  She looked over at Steve. "Ashtray was bonded publicly the day after the auction.  They had to hold him down and he cried the whole time. Me and my Alpha couldn't watch.  We had to leave. It was barbaric."

"Ditto DeSoto and Donner," said Fred.  "...oh, man, try saying that three times fast!"

Donner looked up defensively.  "My bonding was _not_ like Ashtray's!  I was just nervous, that's all."

"Give me a break, Donnie.  You looked like you wanted to kill yourself."

" _I was just nervous_."

"Better Giddy than Ronnie," said Fred.  "I hear he _killed_ his last omega."  Fred seemed a bit drunk even though it was only mid-morning.  Apparently he got fairly morbid when he drank.

"Oh, shut up, no he didn't," said Hal immediately.

"I heard Stark won DeSoto last night.  ...did you hear DeSoto's story?" asked Fred, turning to Steve, eyes bright.  "I mean, come on. A week after DeSoto got shot, Tricky just disappeared. I'm telling you.  Open up Ronnie's septic tank and-- bam! Skeleton city."

"You're confused Mike with Ronnie.  Ronnie bonded to Indy.  Mike's with Ashtray," interjected Hal.

"Jesus Christ, Fred, no more Long Islands," said Lola, disgusted, yanking the drink out of Fred's hand.  "No one killed Trickshot and you're being an ass."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just worried... I'm worried he's gonna buy someone this time.  ...I kind of like it being just us." He reached up to finger the ivy filigree on his collar, almost subconsciously.

"Aww... Andy wouldn't do that, I'm sure," said Lola, patting his arm.

"I don't know... he wants kids, I'm getting old, and I lost two already."  Fred shrugged weakly. "...at least I'm not going to get murdered," he added, almost to himself.

" _Trickshot wasn't murdered._  Stop saying he was murdered!  Oh my God!" Lola looked ready to throttle him.

Steve would have pinned Fred as being in his late twenties or early thirties, certainly not "old."  Yet compared at the auction crowd, they were all ancient. Steve knew the legal bonding age was seventeen, but some of these kids looked like they had literally _just_ turned.

He spotted Hal's friend, Abby, chatting animatedly with a sandy-haired boy who was smiling nervously next to the girl Piper was talking to.  Without Eric around, Piper, as usual, had perked up, and she and the other girl seemed like they were getting along very well.

Steve could listen to them bicker for an age. It was so easy to fade into the background, their squabbles years old and part of a world he couldn't really understand. He didn't even know what to say. The way Fred talked so casually about...

Steve was sure the drink was helping, but he wasn't all that fond of Fred at the moment. The only person he could imagine keeping in contact with was Hal to be honest. He'd like to keep in touch with more of them but... aside from the conference, he wasn't really sure what he would ever have to talk about with these sorts of people.

Hal had clearly noticed Steve had drifted off already. She patted his arm. "Sorry, I know this is weird.  You alright?"

"Fine," Steve told her.

"You look sort of...lost."

"What right do I have to tell any of these people that my way of thinking is right, and theirs is just wrong and oppressive?" Steve said and Fred looked confused. Hal looked sympathetic.

"Oppressive?" Donner echoed. "But they chose to be here."

"But do they really have any other option?" Steve pointed out. "Go back fifty years. Plenty more women were housewives, not because they _wanted_ to be but because they weren't ever given the opportunity to be anything else. Put people on a straight path chances are they'll take it, even if it's not the right direction for them. Would you have bonded Gideon if you could have gone to college, or something else? Sorry, don't answer that, that's not fair of me to ask--"

"I got a place to do law," Donner said, all of a sudden. "But I didn't go in the end." Then he stared stubbornly at the floor, like he'd just said too much. Steve's heart sank for him.

Steve pulled away, Donner refusing to meet anyone's gaze. It was time to brave it. There were eight girls and ten boys. Almost all of them say Steve approaching. Their faces were hard to read... Steve sighed. Well, it was now or never.

Eyes turned to watch Steve making his way across the room.  The auctionees clearly had mixed feelings.; some of them got wide eyes and looked worried, but others broke into grins and giggles.  Of course; they were kids and Steve was the legendary Captain America.

Sure enough, once he was in calling distance, several of them raised their hands and called, "Captain America!"

Up close, Steve saw that they had on collars, but the collars weren't flat and wide like everyone else's; they were plain chains.  They might have been mistaken for short necklaces. Each of them had a tag with a number.

One, Nine, and Seventeen were waving at him, looking excited.  Whoever had made the choice to go with white clothing for them had clearly done it for a specific reason; like most omegas, these were easily half blonds, and the whiteness of their clothes made them shine.  Nine and Sixteen were blond; One had dark hair and sideburns like Steve's. Either they were coming back in fashion or Steve was influencing a fashion trend. Or, perhaps most likely, it was a combination of the two.

"...I heard you were here but I didn't really believe it!  Wow. Captain America," said One, grinning and reaching out to shake his hand.  "My dad loves you! He collects a ton of memorabilia, his office looks like an American flag exploded!"

Sixteen was chewing on her thumb nervously and giggling, eyeballing him not unlike Joan and Maria had done.

Steve may had only had a quarter-century of life experience, but growing up in the Great Depression and fighting in World War Two had aged him.  Even though these people were only five or so years younger than him, physiologically, the age gap seemed much greater.  Steve felt like he was standing amongst a bunch of children. The thought they most of them were supposed to be sold and mated within the next few weeks or months made him feel a little ill. It was hard to hide how disturbed he felt as he entered the 'auctionee' territory. Some of the Alphas who had been peering in to the omega pin frowned, clearly not liking the thought of radical ol' Steve having a chat with them.

"How's everyone doing?" Steve asked, glancing around them. He was taller than every single one of them. He shook One's hand when it was offered. "Really? That's sweet." He wondered how One's dad felt now his status was out in the open. If he was still a fan, then kudos to him.

"I'm doing good," Sixteen said, her voice sweet like honey as she stepped closer.

"So excited!" Nine chimed in, grinning from ear to ear.

Seven was a young ginger boy who looked like he had only just turned seventeen. He was one of the tallest too. "I'm nervous," he said, green eyes flitting over Steve.

"Why are you nervous?" Steve asked, voice patient.

"Well I don't know what's going to happen, do I? Some of them look...scary," he finished, staring out at the Alphas practically leering in. Seven looked very out of his depth. The paternal part of Steve wanted to pick him right up and carry him out of here already.

"It is kind of scary," Two hummed, bumping shoulders with him. "Not knowing..." Again. She only looked seventeen or eighteen.

"Well, if you're scared, then maybe don't do it," Steve said and Seven looked at him like he'd just grown a horn out of his forehead.

Sixteen burst into slightly hysterical laughter, and then so did One and Nine, clearly thinking Steve had told a joke they didn't quite get.  Seven looked down, blushing brilliantly, too nervous to laugh with them.

Piper and Five appeared.  "See, here's Steve," she said.  She and Five had linked arms.

"Wo-o-ow!" said Five, as if Steve were a wax mannequin and not a person who could hear them.

" _Please_ tell me Tony Stark's buying?" asked Sixteen eagerly, looking thrilled at the idea of being in a trio with the two of them.

"I just... I'm just... worried about bonding..." mumbled Seven.  Green eyes flicked up, then down.

Nine overheard him.  "Oh, you'll be fine, Greg.  You're super cute and nice."

"I'm not like Fourteen or Twelve."

" _No one_ 's like Twelve," said Nine, casting an enviable glance over.  She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She was runner-up for Miss Illinois before they found out her status.  She was all doped up on suppressants trying to hide it. Snob. Her parents tried to send her to Shore's Breath but they were filled up."

"I'd rather be bonded than go there," said Seven, clearly trying to sound hopeful.  But the anxiety and misery on him was palpable.

"I just hope I don't end up with an old guy.  Even a girl would be okay," said Sixteen, twisting her thumb in her mouth.  She gave Steve another glance. "Tony's like, only, like, thirty-five or something, right?  He looks pretty young. Right? He's like in his thirties or something?"

"You know he's gonna take Twelve or Fourteen, if he takes any of us," said Seven sourly.

"Neither of them is blond; I'm blonde," replied Sixteen.

"He already has a blond, though, doesn't he?  So maybe he'll go for Twelve since she's got dark hair," said Seven, a bit nastily, clearly upset at Sixteen's cheerful, excited preening.

He successfully hit a nerve.

"Shut up, Greg!"

"No, _you_ shut up, Becky!"

"Tony would never buy someone." Steve stated, looking a little offended at the idea. "He's not like that."

"Like what?" Five asked, frowning.

Steve sighed, steeling himself for the worse. "It's not...normal, to buy a life partner. You meet them first, get to know them, go on dates--" _Ha_. Him and Tony went on how many dates before Steve let him take his virginity?  Steve felt like a hypocrite but now was not the time for personal guilt.  He had to get through to these people. "He also doesn't see me as a hair color, you know."

"But we _do_ get to talk to them," Nine said.

"But after they've bought you, right?" Steve pointed out and then Nine looked sheepish.

"That's not how it's done for people like us," Seven shrugged.

"Why not? I would have killed to go to college at your age," Steve said and he really would have done. If all these kids came from affluent families like Hal said then they could certainly afford it. He tried to get interviews at art schools, but every time he turned up and they smelt his status on him he was turned away. After the last one he'd broken down into a pool of frustrated tears and Bucky had rocked him on the couch until he'd fallen asleep.

"What were you doing at our age?" Sixteen asked and grinned. "Were you in the war?"

"When I was like twenty? No. I was bonded and I was pretty miserable." Steve was beginning to understand that he loved Bucky, with all his heart. But that he also didn't enjoy being bonded to him. The two things weren't mutually exclusive. He didn't have to _hate_ Bucky to hate the way the Alpha made him feel.

A tiny hush fell over the crowd, and a few omegas from the regular group edged over to listen in.

"The guy you were bonded to, first?  I heard about that," said One quietly.  "...isn't he still alive? He must be like a hundred."

"He's still alive. Or he was..." Steve drifted off. "He might never wake up again." Not confidential, but very close to the truth.

"Is it really sad?" asked Sixteen.

"Was he bad to you?" asked Seven.

"He wasn't bad to me, but he wasn't good either. I was very sick, it was a difficult time for both of us."

"How come you and Tony ended up together?  He's supposed to be a crazy playboy guy, isn't he?  And he's like, totally unhinged, and walks around in robot suit?" asked Five.  "Is he like your other Alpha?" 

Steve smiled a little at Five's question. "Maybe he's still a little unhinged, but in a good way. It's true that Tony used to be more...adventurous. But we've kind of settled down now, both of us. And no he's nothing like the media portrays him.  At least not anymore. He treats me right."

Across the pen, an Alpha whistled, and an omega hurried over.  She listened to him, nodded, and then trudged over to the group.  "Excuse me. My Alpha wants to see you. Can you lift your shirt?" she asked Seven.

Seven looked mortified.  Slowly, he lifted his shirt to show his stomach.  He wasn't muscular, but wasn't too thin. Perhaps he'd run track in school.

"Thanks," said the omega.

Steve watched in horror as Seven was made to lift up his shirt. Jesus Christ.

"Did Tony buy you?" One asked.

"No, we just...chose each other. We met by chance." _I went undercover in his company for months_. "I don't think I would ever do something like _this_.  You should be bonded for love, by your own choice.  Not because people are pressuring you to."

Sixteen frowned. "Why not? Wouldn't your parents want you to settle down?"

Steve moved to sit down, the omegas all sitting down around him. The few around the edges who hadn't been listening got distracted and turned when the rest of their autionees moved to sit cross-legged around Steve. Even Twelve, who'd been talking to another omega, pulled in closer so she could listen. They really were like children, excitable and curious. It was hardly surprising that they were more interest in an omega war hero with stories to tell than conversations about settling down. They were so young, after all.

"A guy tried to buy me once. He was about forty, like most of the Alphas here. My ma needed the money, and she was struggling to find work after she'd been laid off at the hospital. It must have been tempting. I even told her that I wouldn't mind but we knew nothing about the guy. I was sixteen, the legal bonding age was younger. I was small and ill all the time, if he'd bought me, I wouldn't have survived a pregnancy or anything like that.  ...but my ma chased him off.  She said I would bond when I was ready, not when we needed the money.  And she got a temporary job at a laundry place until she found another hospital to work in."

"Is it true you had a miscarriage?" Sixteen asked in a whisper. "What did you mean when you said your old Alpha made you loose it? Isn't he super old?"

"Aren't _I_ super old?" Steve pointed out and Sixteen blinked and pulled her face in thought. "He attacked me. I didn't even know I was carrying a whelp. But my friend got hurt too, I took him to the hospital, and then blood started running down my leg, and then I realized. It was pretty horrible."

"Why'd he attack you?"

"He was... trying to take me back, or take me away, I guess. The problem is, you let your Alpha treat you like an object once, it never stops. I let my first Alpha get away with so much. The way he treated me wasn't okay. And he's come back and assumed he can do the same. Because... because I guess that's how we were raised.  But that's not acceptable anymore.  Not in this century.  The problem is, if you're bought by an Alpha...that's already setting a very dangerous precedent. I met an omega last night whose been shot by his Alpha before. His Alpha makes him fight other omegas for entertainment. But then I found out that he doesn't even _like_ fighting, but he does it anyway. He gets hurt in them, too."

One rubbed a hand over their face. "I don't wanna fight anyone..."

"These Alphas have money. And the means to provide for us," Twelve said smoothly. "And what's to say we won't get someone kind? We don't have to stay with them."

"But chances are you will. And you don't know they'll be kind; it's a gamble," Steve said. "Why can't you provide for yourself? Omegas can have jobs, and they go to college now. I would have killed for that kind of opportunity in my time! I'm not saying don't get an Alpha and don't settle down, but don't do it like this. Almost every omega I've met in here is-- they're like a shell. They won't talk to me, they won't look me in the eye like you guys do. They don't _speak_ unless their Alpha prompts them to. And they certainly don't ask me questions like you're all doing now. An Alpha, or any relationship, is supposed to make _more_ of a person. They're supposed to make you happy, add to you, show you things you never even knew about yourself." Steve's lips twitched up in the hint of a smile. "Tony helps build me up.  Not break me down.  That's what a mate does.  They're not supposed to take stuff away."

Twelve sat down. "I want to hear about the war," she said. "Did you really land a plane into the ocean?"

Steve leaned forward; the omegas looked fascinated.  He had their attention.  "Well..." he began.

* * *

 Across the room, Tony was leaving the _Omegas in the Workplace_ shop because he felt like he might have to throw up again.  He needed air. He slipped outside to the nearest balcony, which was, blissfully, empty.  It was a nice day but the crowd was inside, milling around the omegas. From this particular balcony, Tony couldn't see any picketers.  Thank Turing for that.

He dialed Pepper.

"Pep.  Question.  Could you wire me ten million dollars?"

Pepper laughed.  "What?"

"I need ten million dollars."

"What, do you want to buy an island or something?" she asked, sounding amused.

"...Virginia.  I'm serious."

There was a pause.

"Tony, I can't get you ten million dollars at the drop of a hat."

"Why not?  I'm worth twelve _billion_ , with a B!  C'mon, we're rich!"

"First of all, your money isn't liquid, Tony.  When you give money to the bank, it's not the same as storing it under a mattress.  Your money is tied up in the company and investments and bonds and savings... and frankly your suits.  Your entire workshop is a like a tire fire that you're tossing bills into.  Those Iron Man suits are a black hole for your liquid finances.  Which I remind you about every single quarter that we go over your expenses.  So, no, I can't just send you ten million dollars right this instant."

"...but I might need it," said Tony.

"What on earth at that conference could be worth ten million?"

Tony felt a pang in his heart.  "...trust me, Pepper. It's worth it.  Please. Please? You're my accountant, you're my CFO, you're my golden girl... if anyone can free up ten million, it's you."

Pepper sighed heavily.  "Okay... when do you need it by?"

"...this evening."

" _Tony_!  You want me to get you ten million dollars, cash, within seven or eight hours?  _On a Saturday_?"

"Why's it matter if it's Saturday?" asked Tony, who rarely went to banks himself.  He had people for that.

Pepper made a nose of frustration.  "...I'll make some phone calls but I can't give you any promises.  Is that good enough?"

"...yeah.  ....thanks, Pepper," said Tony.  He hung up and leaned over the balcony, resting his forehead on his clasped hands and closing his eyes.  He wasn't praying; Tony didn't believe in asking ghostly entities for psychic favors. He was just thinking, just enjoying the cool breeze, just enjoying the freedom he had that others didn't have.


	16. The Auctionees, part II

Tony stood on the patio, leaning his forearms on the railing, staring out into the bright, clear day.  The hotel was built on a slope; the lower lobby therefore was still able to have an overhang, on the back of the hotel.  There was a sweeping view of a rolling field of grass and wildflowers.  An annoying metaphorical scene of freedom. 

Tony had never been denied money before.  His mind was speeding through ideas.  Could he buy omegas on a credit card?  Write a check?  Surely just being Tony Stark meant he didn't need to have the cash in hand right away... right?

There had to be a solution.  One that didn't involve letting eighteen sheltered, unwilling people have their innocence ruined.

A door opened behind him.

Frond appeared out of the balcony doors, pulling out a cigarette to light. She glanced over and saw Tony, her eyes glinting something wicked. "That was an awfully dirty trick you pulled last night, Stark," she said, but it almost sounded like she approved. She leaned against the balcony edge, taking a drag. Surprisingly, Frond was polite enough to tilt her head away so Tony didn't get any of the smoke. "I imagine DeSoto set a good example last night. He's a very well behaved boy."

Tony edged very slightly away when Frond began lighting up, but relaxed when he saw she had purposely put herself downwind and was blowing the smoke away from him.

"...ha.  DeSoto's the most obsequious human being I've ever met.  I get that from everyone. Don't want it from my partner," replied Tony.  "...don't your omegas ever _bore_ you?  I mean, there's gotta be nights you don't want sex, that you just want a _conversation."_

"You're nothing like you're portrayed in the media," said Frond.

"Well, I've never even heard of you."

Frond laughed again.  She was apparently immune to all jabs and insults.  Tony found it both irritating and enviable.

"Being bonded isn't about sex.  It's about a connection and fulfilling instinctual and natural roles.  Omegas love to please. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that Steve craves your praise and attention, that's he's nurturing towards you?  And you... you're protective of him. People who are statused have these natural instincts; it's foolish to pretend they don't exist." She stared out over the balcony contemplatively.  "It can be a burden. At times, I envy betas."

"Just because we have those instincts doesn't mean we have to _degrade_ omegas.  Sure, me and Steve have... roles.  But we also respect each other. As people."

"Omegas are stronger instincts than we do, you know.  They're less people then we are... arguably, just as we're less human than betas.  Because we are products of our biology, driven to obey our urges without rational thought."

"I don't think smacking omegas around and forcing them to wear collars has anything to do with biology," replied Tony.

"You and him were scent-mates, weren't you?"

"...yeah."

They lapsed into silence.  Tony didn't want to be anywhere near her, but he didn't want to move or go inside, either.

"...would you like me to show you where their scent glands are?"

Tony looked up sharply.  God, yes, he did.

Frond flicked her cigarette away and walked over to Tony, reaching behind his ears.  "Here. If you put your finger just behind the earlobe and then go back and up about an inch.  You feel the skull, but there's a small little cushion. That's the gland."

Tony's skin was crawling as she touched him.

"I don't feel anything," he said.

"No, because your glands aren't ennervated like omegas' are."

Tony reached behind his other ear and felt carefully, trying to mirror her actions.

"A lot of those omegas are wasting their potential.  They could be engineers or teachers or something," he said, defensively, even as he copied Frond's touch on his neck, trying to pinpoint the elusive and secret area where the scent glands were.

"...most of those omegas are better off now than they were," replied Frond.

"How many of them were forced, huh?"

"Who cares?  Once they're bonded, they learn to love.  It's instinct. Look at your little friend Banksy.  He and Boswell are one of the most beloved pairs in America, and they were arranged.  Banksy adores Boswell. I doubt he even remembers the bonding itself."

This conversation wasn't helping Tony's stomach at all.  He stood straight and walked out without another word. Inside, people were still milling, and across the room, he could see Steve, a head taller than everyone else, sitting on the floor among a bunch of omegas in white, having a little pow-wow.

Hal had brought lunch over for everyone in the form of sandwiches and they were practically having a picnic of sorts. The auctionees were all very chatty and asked Steve about just every aspect of his life. Then they turned to Hal. One asked her how she bonded her own Alpha.

"I studied history and anthropology at college. She was doing her doctorate at the time on something I was interested in. I e-mailed her... we got talking about World War Two, and then next thing I know we're on a coffee date. And, oh my God, she was so _clever_ and sweet to me and... yeah, I was besotted." Hal's face lit up when she spoke about Steph. It was cute. And it made sense why so she was fascinated by Steve, if she studied the second World War in particular. It didn't surprise Steve that Hal was an academic either; she was so goddamn bright.

"How long did you date before you bonded?" Steve asked curiously.

"Oh, about two years."

All of the younger omegas looked shocked. Hal shrugged.

"She said she wanted me to wait till I was twenty five, so I'd be sure," Hal said. "She's only five years older than me, but I wanted to finish my degree and Master's still. Now I'm doing my doctorate and teach, and she works at some big industry thing. It worked out well." They were clearly an incredibly smart pair and both doing well for themselves. Hal's Alpha hadn't limited her success; she'd bolstered it, supported her through further education. They were the perfect example of what an omega and Alpha could be as equals.

Steve was glad that there were least a couple of omegas here who weren't completely deranged.

"I hate history," Sixteen said, pulling a face. "It's so depressing."

"Tell that Steve, he lived through the _great_ depression," Hal said and everyone laughed.

Mid-laugh Steve spotted Tony in the crowd. He waved at him.

Tony perked up a little when Steve waved to him.  He walked over to the edge of the pen and gestured for Steve to come over.  He was curious to know what the people in white were like. They looked like a bunch of normal kids, college undergraduates lounging on the quad, eating finger sandwiches and chatting.

He felt a chill.  He couldn't buy all of them.  He couldn't get ten million by tonight.  Steve had said to try to save the youngest but they all looked around the same age, eighteen or nineteen.  How did he choose? Should he get the ones that looked weakest? Strongest? Smartest? Most attractive? Should he bet against people he knew would abuse them, like Ron, DeSoto's Alpha?  How did you make that kind of judgement call?

And what to do with them afterwards?  They couldn't send them home but Tony didn't want to adopt a person, have them hovering around his house like a permanent DeSoto.  These omegas were here because they couldn't imagine a world without strong guidance from an Alpha. They couldn't just be let go. They'd end up right back here.

Tony gestured again, impatiently.  DeSoto appeared.

"I was waving for Steve, not you," said Tony.

"Sorry, sir."

"...go get a sandwich for me or something, will you?  Something light... grilled chicken, I dunno," said Tony, pulling out his wallet and stuffing his credit card into DeSoto's hand.  That would get rid of him for a while.

"Oh my God! Is that him? Is that Mr. Stark?" Sixteen asked in a whisper, leaning into Steve's space. "Are you sure he won't buy me?"

"100%," Steve told her dryly. "Tony doesn't want to buy anyone. He doesn't want to see anyone get _bought_ today."

One frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Steve means his Alpha thinks it's goddamn fucked up to buy an omega for yourself like they're some kind of dog," Hal said, a lot blunter than Steve was. He winced a little. Hal was used to the conference; it didn't bother her. She could talk about Trickshot and not get upset. But that didn't mean she was afraid to say it how she saw it.

"They don't treat us like dogs," Seven protested.

"They make us wear collars. They make us fetch things for them. They get rid of you if you don't behave how you like," Steve pointed out as he stood up. "I'm not saying it's as bad as that. But I'm not sure we're treated like people in here."

They began to whisper conspiratorially as Steve walked out of their little group and over to Tony. "Hey," he breathed. "How's it going? It's kind of like being back in high school over here..."

"Look when I learned!" said Tony excitedly, reaching out to press behind Steve's ear.

Steve got a glazed look and dropped to his knees.

"Oh shit," said Tony in alarm, jumping back.  Several people stared.

Tony dropped to his knees to look Steve in the eye.  "Steve, I am so, so sorry, I didn't mean to do it that hard.  I didn't think it'd-- I'm sorry, shit." He pulled Steve into a hug, feeling embarrassed on Steve's behalf.  Fuck, he should have said what he was going to do before doing it. And also probably shouldn't have _jabbed_.  There was a very subtle, faint oiliness on Tony's fingers (gross) and Steve smelled incredibly enticing.  Not smell so much as taste-feel; pheromone sense was difficult to communicate to betas.

Over Steve's shoulder, Tony saw the kids in white watching them, wide-eyed.  They looked kind of like they were in a cult.

It was sort of frightening, how quickly Steve's mind slipped from their conversation to him dropping to his knees like it was as simple as breathing. Is this what Frond did to her omegas all the time? It must have been terrifying when they were first bonded.

"That's-- oh my God." Steve choked out, rubbing a hand over his face as he slowly came back to himself. He laughed, almost nervously. "That's insane. It's different when you do it. It's like an off switch. And Jesus Christ Tony, you can't do that in public." If he got a semi in his jeans, _everyone_ would be able to see.

Tony released Steve and offered him a hand up.  "...how's the... the thing with the kids going? Which ones are we gonna try to save?  Don't say 'all of them,' because I tried to get ten million dollars and Pepper said it was a no-go."

Steve stood without a wobble, taking Tony's hand but not putting too much  weight on it. "The kids? They're good..." Steve said, struggling to switch back to what they were talking about before. "Well," Steve glanced back at the kids. He waved. They all waved back. Then he turned to Tony. "I'm going to save all of them--" He raised a hand before Tony could protest. Steve smiled. "But that doesn't require buying a single one of them."

It took Tony's mind a moment to process Steve's words because his mouth was watering.  He suddenly desperately wanted sex. The faint slipperiness on the fingers from Steve's glands expressing themselves was disgusting but also insanely sexy.

"...what do you mean, not buy them?" asked Tony, not sure he'd heard correctly.  "You're not going to try to smuggle 'em out in a laundry cart or something, are you? There's like twenty of them, aren't there?  ...please tell me this doesn't involve any fighting or anything."  Tony knew Steve could get a bit crazy at times and this convention was hitting most of his sore spots.  They had come here to make a point. Tony didn't have his suit, he was worthless without it, and the last thing he wanted was for things to get hairy.

"...did I just see what I thought I saw?  Captain America, on his knees?" Gideon Malick slithered up and Tony cringed.

"What do you want, Malick?"

"DONNER!" yelled Malick; the other omega scurried over.  "Kneel." Donner dropped. Malick smiled. "...it makes a man feel powerful, doesn't it?  Seeing a man like Steve Rogers kneeling before you?"

"You know you sound like an evil madman, right?" asked Tony.  "I mean, you don't live in like, an active volcano or something, do you?"

"Is that any way to talk to your temporary Alpha?" asked Malick.  Tony's eyes narrowed. "Let's not forget, I won a couple of nights of your regrettably disrespectful company.  Unfortunately for you, I don't like other Alphas, so there won't be any mating. ...I saw the mark on your neck.   Very interesting idea, trying to hide it with a collar."

Tony's dander rose.  In fact, it spiked like it hadn't since the last time he had been fighting in the suit, in Yemen.  The collar pressed down on the sensitive hair, and it was painful enough to make Tony's eyes water slightly.

"That mark was from a lab accident," snarled Tony softly.

"A lab accident that occurred in 2008?" asked Malick, raising an eyebrow.  Obviously he had done his research. Tony's snarl became more pronounced, his lip lifting, and several people had turning, sensing aggression, clearly interested to see if a fight was about to break out.  "...I don't care, especially. I just wanted to make sure you held up your end of the deal. I'm aware that, tonight, you'll be busy with DeSoto, so I've decided to generously allow you to carry out your service to me this afternoon, starting now, and running until the auction."

"You've got to be fucking--"

"Wash my car."

" _What_?"

"My car needs washed.  Go do it," said Malick.

Tony stared at him in shock, and then drew himself up.  His expression resolved into one of smug yet polite agreement.  "Fine. I'm a man of integrity and you did win me, fair and square.  Which car?"

"The black Escalade on the fourth floor parking deck.  Enjoy. When you're done, you can go upstairs and iron my suits for me.  Here's the room key. Good boy, Stark."

"Thank you, Mr. Malick, sir," said Tony, voice dripping with sarcasm like Steve had never heard before.  Tony did a mocking little curtsy, then turned to Steve. "Text me what you're up to. See ya, Steve. I got a car to scrub."  He turned back to Malick. "Should I got get my bikini top and daisy dukes to wash it, or are jeans okay?"

"You can wear a squirrel suit for all I care."

"Squirrel suit.  Got it. Yes, sir," said Tony, repeating the curtsy before swaggering off, whistling, like this was all a big joke.

Steve was trying hard not to laugh again. Initially, he'd been embarrassed that Malick had seen him _kneeling_. He was the worst possible audience. Then Steve had been furious that Gideon dare mention the mark on Tony, the reminder of Afghanistan, such a hard time for Tony, but a time that made him stronger. Gideon seemed in every sense, weak, to Steve. He was sure he wouldn't come out the other side of such a traumatic incident as well as Tony had done.

But Tony had navigated the conversation with perfectly surreal humor and then Steve was trying not laugh because Tony's attitude to him was priceless.  He'd always loved the Stark system of malicious compliance, the sarcasm, the wit, the charm.

"Is something funny?" Malick asked, actually _looking_ at Steve for a change.

"Just your fragile masculinity," Steve told him and then slipped away, heading back into the omega den and to the auctionees. He didn't want to give that man any more of his time then he had to. He pulled out his phone and texted Tony.

_ > If you go to the auction tonight, sit near the back. You might want to leave quite quickly. If everything goes to plan, that is. SR  
_

Then he sat back down amongst the auctionees. They were exchanging small talk, gossiping about other couples that were trying to get a look in at them. Steve just ate patiently and listened to them for a little while. It was nice to just let them be kids. Seven began staring at him though.

"What is it?" Steve asked. Seven almost blushed.

"You...you don't want us to go up for auction, do you? But if we don't do that, then what do we do?"

"Well, we could go out for a meal, or to the cinema--"

"He means with our lives," Twelve said impatiently. "Not our evening plans." And suddenly all eyes were on Steve again.

"You're pretty young to be laying out life plans, don't you think? It sounds like a lot of you don't know what you want...sure maybe your parents want you to settle down, and maybe you will one day, but it doesn't have to be _tonight_. If you don't know where you go from here then there's nothing wrong with that. You give yourself time to figure it out for yourself. That's something I wish I'd done when I was your age."

One snorted loudly.  "Easy for you to say.  You're famous, and married to a billionaire.  Us? We don't have _anything_.  We don't have money, we don't have families that want us.  If we don't get an Alpha, then we'll end up on the street. It's not easy to be an omega; you should know that!  But it's even hard to be poor. It's harder not to have any support or safety net. That's something I doubt you know anything about, _Captain_."

Several of them looked shocked that One would talk to him in such a manner.  A couple were nodding in agreement.

"My life was _ruined_ when they found out I was a breeder," said Twelve bitterly.

"At least you're good-looking," said Three.  "You'll probably get one of the best Alphas here.  They'll pay lots of money for you and treat you nice."

"We're not all big like you.  No omega is," said Ten softly.  "I want an Alpha to protect me. I don't want to get attacked every time I go into heat."  More were nodding.

"If Alphas respected us they wouldn't attack us when we went into heat," Steve said quietly. "But you go into heat twice a year, right? You can't let two weeks of your year dictate how you're going to live the rest of it. No, heats aren't easy. They're messy and vulnerable and, yes, I would know; I've been in heat on a battlefield before."

They'd been in France.

Steve had woken to fever; it was the first time in his life he'd experienced a real heat.  He'd been so scared he'd wanted to cry; half his unit was unbonded Alphas and they were in the middle of nowhere.  So what if he was a supersoldier; he was still an omega, far from home, vulnerable and emotional and weak with need.  He'd emerged from his tent pale and shaking; the men had looked up at him.

Dum Dum was an unbonded Alpha but he'd just strode over, picked Steve up like he was nothing, and carried him into a safe house.  A small cottage, abandoned over a year ago, the farm long-since ruined by war.  He'd barred up the door and sat outside with his gun the whole night. Steve knew he hadn't meant it in 'Alpha' way. He'd been protecting him, as a friend. And Bucky had stayed well clear of him, like he was afraid he might pounce on Steve if he got too close.  Steve remembered kinda wished he had at the time.

_The heat had lasted only one night. It was technically his very first and was therefore brief; the next morning when Steve had appeared, all burned out Dum Dum, had laughed and shoved a canteen into his chest. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're heavy," he's told him, and then that was that, and they went back to fighting just like they always did.  And none of the other men ever mentioned it, nor did they act different when their Captain returned._

A few of the regular omegas were watching this discussion; Waffles suddenly blurted, "You're dangerous."  He was talking about Steve. "You're going to get us all Trickshotted!"

Steve looked up at Waffles. "Trickshot was very brave. And he deserved better. And if he had known how his Alpha was going to treat him before hand, I'll bet you he wouldn't have mated him."

"Trickshot didn't have a choice," snarled Waffles.

A woman next to him nodded fervently.  "Ashtray fought against his bond and one year he just didn't show up anymore.  What do you think happened to him, hm? Do you think he went to _college_?"

Before Steve could say anything Hal shot up to her feet. He was confused at why she was about to defend on him on this when he remembered, history student. Her Alpha might have written a lot about Steve. Steph was probably more keyed up on his life history than he was at this point.

"How dare you say that to him! He used to be tiny! He used to be like five feet tall and he had _nothing_! He grew up in _the Depression_. None of you has been through what Steve had.  Not during the war, but before it.  Steve grew up in a time when omegas weren't even considered people, and he grew up sick and poor with no hope for the future.  How dare you act like he doesn't understand or that your lots are worse than his.  I bet you guys all think you've got it hard, but I've seen your goddamn iPhones.  Especially you Eight! Why the hell buy an iPhone _Plus_ when you have such tiny hands!?"

Eight blushed and ducked their head.

"Sure, you don't have a safety net but the reason you don't is because of this stupid statusist Alphas-first-then-omegas culture, which you're feeding right into by putting yourselves up for sale! My brother sold himself like this because our parents wanted him to.  And he's fucking miserable. He hated his Alpha but dad told him, 'don't you dare come home' because it would have brought too much _shame_ into the family. Yeah, what happened to Trickshot was fucked up. But that's far _less_ likely to happen to you if you walk out of here right now and don't go stand up on that stage in a few hours!  I refused to be sold and I went to college; I took out loans, I worked my ass off, and I bonded to an Alpha I actually _like_.  That's how it's _supposed_ to be."

Hal let out a ragged breath. Everyone was staring her, including a few bonded omegas around the pen. Clearly that kind of outburst was inappropriate.

"I'm not saying it's easy," murmured Steve, trying to deescalate the situation.  "I'm aware that letting your Allpha take care of you is easier, in a lot of ways. But life isn't about choosing the easy route. If it was, I wouldn't even be here. I wouldn't even be in this century. But sometimes you gotta do hard shit, you've got to be prepared to get dirty, to struggle. That's what real life is. Your Alpha shouldn't be a safety net. They should be your _partner_. You put yourself up for auction tonight then you're gambling your life away on _their_ terms, not _yours_. The difference is, you could be a product of your situation, and you might be happy... and even if you screw up along the way then it's okay, because _you_ put yourself there. Not some Alpha who's lonely and horny with a lot of cash to spend. And I know you're afraid of being alone, but right now you're _not_.  You have each other, so... Do you want a life and relationship that revolves around your _Alpha_ or a life that revolves around _you_?"

There was a long silence.

"They'll try to stop us if we leave," said Seven quietly.

"You pay money to get into the auction.  A hundred grand," said Seventeen. "That's how come they start the bidding there.  If we leave, we won't just be on the street. We'll be bankrupt."

Seven looked at Steve pleadingly.  "I don't want to be here," he whispered, softly.

"Hal!"  A woman was waving to her.  "Hal, come here..."

Hal sighed and walked over; the woman put an arm around her and gently led her out, probably to get some air.  It must have been Steph. She didn't seem angry, just concerned for Hal.  Hal was tough but based on her outburst, the convention was taking an emotional toll on her.

The omegas were all staring at Steve with huge eyes.  Except for Lola, who was watching Steph and Hal. "...I think you just got Hal kicked out," she reported.

"Mr. Rogers?" called the beta who was acting as the bouncer for the closed-off omegas area.  He gestured for Steve. "You're going to have to leave this area."

Seven reached out and grabbed Steve's sleeve.  "...please, Mr. America. I don't wanna be bonded."

"Wait, can I get your autograph to send to my dad?" asked One quickly.

"Tell Tony to bid on me!  I'm good!" cried Sixteen.

Steve knelt down so the beta woman who was walking over marched over couldn't hear him.

"Walk out. I can pay you all back. We can afford two million, but I can't get the money right away that I'd need to save all of you from this, and I don't wanna pay into a rotten system. Do you understand? If you walk out _together_ they can't physically stop you. They have guards, yes, but they can't hurt you. And if they do, we'll sue. But you have to do this together, or not at all. Omegas have to support each other. You won't be nearly as vulnerable as a team. All the omegas here, they oppress each other. You've got to better than them. Or else twenty more of you will just turn up next year and the same thing will happen again and nothing will ever change or ever get better."

"Mr. Rogers!"

"Remember," Steve whispered. "You are _people_ and you are _priceless_."

"Now!"

"Alright, alright! I'm coming," Steve held up his hands like he was surrendering and stood. The beta woman waved at him until he walked out and away from the auctionees.

He looked back over his shoulder and met Twelve's gaze. She looked absolutely terrific, although he couldn't tell if she was furious with him or the situation; her mismatched eyes watched him go.

The beta woman led him to just outside the cordoned-off omega area. "You will wait here for your Alpha to pick you up," she instructed him.

Steve blinked. "But I think Tony is busy... washing Malick's car, or something?"

"...Giddy's car is outside, in the parking garage downstairs," said Donner helpfully from within the pen, on the other side of the rope.  "You could let him outside until Mr. Stark escorts him back in."

The beta frowned, but clearly thought it was best for Steve to stay far away from the other omegas, lest he "corrupt" them.  "Fine... but you're not allowed in the hospitality suite or grand ballroom or any of the show rooms without your Alpha. ...Ah, excuse me, Mike!  Mike, could you escort this omega outside to the parking garage, please?"

Mike was drinking a beer and he had a young women at his side, visibly pregnant.  "...yeah, okay. Hazel, go play with your friends, and hold my beer," said Mike, handing it to the woman and then wiping his hands on his thighs.  He jerked his head. "Welp, c'mon, let's go."

"It's on the fourth floor!" called Donner.

 _'Play with your friends'_ sounded like something you said to your kid, not your partner. Steve already didn't like Mike as the Alpha walked up to him. Mike didn't look too pleased about the detour either, like Steve was personally inconveniencing him... which he guessed he kind of was.

He walked in line with Mike's step which certainly didn't help him endear the Alpha to him any further. "Everyone's talking about you," he said, voice gruff. "Causing quite a stir."

"That was my intention," Steve said as they stepped into the elevator. There was no point in lying, after all. Mike laughed but the sound was empty.

"Ha. Of course." He pressed the button for the fourth floor. "Bet Mr. Stark is regretting betting himself instead of you now, if he's been stuck in the garage."

"Considering he lost, no. I don't think he regrets it," Steve breathed. "I'm not sure you can bet another person's services without their consent.  I wouldn'ta consented."

"You use a lot of big words, don't ya?"

"Consent is seven letters long," Steve stated calmly. Mike didn't respond, ignoring him. The lift doors opened and they stepped out. The garage level was teeming with flashy cars. He spotted Tony in the corner; thankfully DeSoto hadn't tagged along with him.  DeSoto was back in the pen and would remain there until Tony or the man who was mated to him came to pick him up.

"I'll make my own way now, thanks," Steve said to Mike, clearly not meaning it, as he stepped out of the elevator and towards the corner where Malick's car was.

It was only after Mike had pressed the button and the elevator doors had closed that Steve remembered Mike from the lobby, the day before: Ashtray's Alpha.

In the parking garage, Tony was sitting on the back of a car, swinging his legs and eating a sandwich.  Tony was wearing what appeared to be a grey fleece onesie, the hood pulled up; the hood had an overly cutesy face printed on it and Steve realized it was a squirrel costume.

He was watching with mild interest as a man in a t-shirt and hat washed a car for him.  He looked up and smiled when he saw Steve.

"Hey there.  How did you get out by yourself?  Oh, this is Jorge."

" _Hola_ ," said Jorge.

"I'm paying him to wash the car.  He doesn't speak much English. I found him outside of the gas station down the block.  But he got that I'm giving him _mucho dinero_ for _lave_ this _coche_."

"Iron Man!" said Jorge enthusiastically.  " _Y traje de ardilla_... very funny!"

"Thank, Jorge," said Tony.  "So what the hell are you planning, Steve?  Your text didn't exactly evoke a sense of peace... why would we have to leave suddenly?  You didn't arm them, did you?"

Steve gave Tony a fond look and walked over, tugging on one of the 'squirrel's' ears affectionately. Of course, he never expected Tony to actually wash the car himself. He couldn't wash a mug. He gave Jorge a polite smile and a wave.

"I didn't arm them," he rolled his eyes a little. "But I did tell them they should walk out."

"Okay," said Tony, relieved that Steve hadn't done anything worse than give one of his inspirational speeches.

"Although... if they do walk out, everyone will know it was me. So we should probably get out of there too," Steve pointed out. "We don't want a room of angry Alphas on our asses."

"I'm fine with that.  I'm ready to get out of here.  This conference is creepy and weird."

"I also told them we would kind of pay them back if we did?"  He winced. "There's a hundred grand buy-in.  It's a joke that they they're these because they want to be. Their parents obviously paid, tryin' to get rid of their omega kids, hoping to sell 'em off to someone with a lot of money.  And if they refuse they have to lose their family all that money... and some of them are scared of going bankrupt.  But," Steve sighed, "if the auction does go ahead, and I'm worried it might--"  It was clear he would be very disappointed if it did. "--we should buy Seven. He was nearly crying.  Well, obviously, we should buy all of 'em, but Seven especial--"

Tony looked at Steve worriedly and shook his head.  "I talked to Pepper, but, Steve... I don't think I can get the money fast enough."

"But you're a _billionaire_!"

"I hate to admit this, Steve, but... money can't solve everything.  You'd better hope those omegas walk out of there.  Or else we might not be able to help them."


	17. Bond Repair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't speak Spanish. - T (Apollo)

In the parking garage, Tony and Steve sat on the hood of a car together, watching Jorge wipe off Gideon Malicks car, both of them sipping beer.  Steve half-hoped an Alpha would come out and see them sitting side-by-side like this, as equals.  He hoped they'd see Steve drinking a beer from the bottle, like a _bad_ omega.

Steve had only been at the conference for a day and already he felt like he was going crazy.

Tony wearing a squirrel outfit was only helping him feel even crazier."

"...I worry about Donner," said Tony suddenly, setting down an empty bottle and reaching for the six-pack to grab a second one.  "It's like Gideon just gets off on the idea of... well... _you_.  Do you think he's safe?  I can totally imagine that asshole kicking him around and pretending it's you."  He winced a little as a drop of mustard from his sandwich fell on the fleece squirrel costume; he wiped it off with his finger and then licked his finger.  "And DeSoto... creepy, right? ...I guess I would behave, too, if someone threatened to shoot me." Tony paused and cocked his head thoughtfully.  "...or I would build, y'know, a deadly mechanized suit out of rocket parts. But I understand that option is not available to everyone."

He went back to eating his sandwich while Jorge shined the hubcaps with a rag.

"Donner said he got a place in lawschool, but didn't go because of Gideon," Steve murmured, looking sad for it. He thought of all the omega lawyers he'd spoken to in New York, how feisty and fiery they were. Maybe Donner could have been one of them, maybe Steve would have met with him if... if Gideon hadn't come along.

"Do you know Spanish for ironing clothes?  I think Gideon must have misinterpreted my name... Iron Man does not actually have any idea how to press a shirt..."  Tony was keeping his tone one of forced casualness but his heart was pounding in his chest. If the omegas didn't walk, he'd have to make some hard decisions.  And once they were bought... then what? Maybe he could just "hire" him, like how he had "hired" Happy.

"I'm just glad they didn't tell Gideon to look after me because you were busy and technically 'his' for the day or whatever. That would have been horrible," Steve whispered. "I knew... from the moment I saw that man, I just knew there was something _off_ about him. He creeps me out. I told Donner that if he ever wanted to leave him and wanted support, he should call me straight away. I hope he does call."

"He won't," said Tony morosely.

"The thought of spending another night with DeSoto is horrible. Although if they walk out and we go with them... at least we don't have to stay another night," Steve pointed out, trying to be positive.

"...DeSoto's not so bad, is he?" asked Tony, still eating his sandwich and swinging his feet.  "I think it's good for him to get away from Ron. ...it's weird to think that Malick is one of Fury's bosses.  I mean, I guess there's probably more moderate Alphas on the Council, but still. Weird. Also the Council just oversees SHIELD, and that's really a security agency, not much control over social law..."  

"Do you think we could cut his shirts up instead of pressing them or would that just get Donner in trouble?" Steve sighed.

Tony reached down; on the pavement there was a six-pack of beer.  "Hey, Jorge, you wanna beer?" he called.

" _Si, gracias, senor_ ," said Jorge, pausing to dry off his hands with a towel and then walking over to take one.

"De nada, de nada," replied Tony, pulling a second from the plastic ring and cracking it open.  

Tony gave his head a little shake to clear it, then grinned wickedly at Steve. "I would love to burn every one of his shirts. But yeah, I think he would take it out on Donner. Have you gotten to speak to Donner much?  And how come you hate DeSoto so much? He's sort of brainwashed, but man, he got _shot_.  How does that even _happen_?"

"He talks to me like I'm a kid who doesn't understand anything. It's annoying. And yeah, his Alpha shot him...but DeSoto thinks it's okat because it's an accident. He's got me thinking...the stuff he said about Trickshot, that omegas can oppress each other just as bad. If I listened to what they all said to me here I would be one of them already," Steve sighed and flopped back onto the hood of the car they were sitting on.  "I got to speak to Donner more than I thought I would," Steve murmured, still sounding a little frustrated with himself. "But I can't get him out if he doesn't want out."

"You know, the weird thing is, I sort of... vaguely remember talking to Ron last night and something he said about DeSoto really interested me.  But I can't for the life of me remember what it was. ...I should probably lay off the drinking." Tony sipped froth off the lip of the can.

"Really? Maybe... maybe I could ask DeSoto more about his day-to-day life. Maybe it'll come up then." Steve's interested was admittedly a little piqued. "He doesn't look pregnant or anything. I can't think of much else that would make you really wanna protect the guy. He's not getting rid of him, is he? Like he basically ditched Trickshot?"

He watched Tony take a sip of beer and sighed fondly. "You, lay off the drinking? That would be nice..."

Steve watched Jorge finishing off cleaning Malick's car. It looked like he took good care of it. "What if...what if we did it in his room, you think that would piss him off in a less dangerous way?"  He shot Tony a small grin.  

Tony squinted a little; he seemed lost in his own thoughts and didn't bother returning Steve's smile.  "Yeah, yeah, Trickshot came up.  Ron kept complaining about him. ...something about _that.._. I don't want to protect DeSoto or anything.  I mean, not more than anyone else, I think it was about the other guy that I was interested in," said Tony, squinting.  "Trickshot..." he repeated to himself in a murmur, trying to remember. "...I'll ask DeSoto about him tonight. ...and no, Steve, we're not gonna mess with the any of his shit.  He's already furious at us; he's obviously got an anger issues and a dominance complex. If we push him, he'll take it out on Donner. I mean, think about it. You piss him off, Donner looks like you... and he got Donner before you were even unfrozen.  I bet you in the bedroom, they do some weird Captain America roleplay and Malick pretends like he'd a big guy who can beat him up. _Ugh_."

Tony's hackles rose up and he tugged impatiently on his collar.  It was only late morning but Malick's earlier jab about his neck had done a lot of damage.   Physically, and emotionally. Tony hid his mark well and had never had to answer any questions about it.  The hackles did a good job of covering it, and Tony's hair was a bit on the long side anyway. But there were enough pictures out there of Tony that, surely, anyone with enough time on their hands could probably note that the marks on his neck and back and shoulders appeared after 2008.  After his capture.

Fortunately the arc reactor was so unapologetically ostentatious that most people never noticed all the other scars.  And when they did, Tony lied. Lab accidents, childhood injuries or diseases, motorcycle crashes... Tony had even once said he'd had an accident with fireworks.  And people believed him, because Tony was charming. But Malick clearly didn't believe that Tony's neck was a result of an accident.

And Tony remembered, heart pounding a little faster, that DeSoto had asked about his neck that very morning.

Of course these people would be eyeballing necks, seeing who was bonded and whose hackles were the biggest.  And Tony had drawn attention to it, by wearing the collar. Goddamn, how many of them had noticed, and how many people had they talk to about it?  Was everyone going to think he was a homo like Sam Wilson? Worse, a homo who liked taking the omega role? Would people think that was why Steve was so uppity, why Tony had ended up, against all expectations, with a huge, manly man with sideburns and muscles and a strong jaw, an omega who might just be able to pass as an Alpha... and had, for years, because if you weren't there to smell him, you'd never guess, even with the blond hair.

Tony slumped down a little in his squirrel onesie, feeling uneasy and self-conscious, perhaps even moreso because he knew Steve could feel it.

At least Jorge couldn't.  Jorge was a beta. And also didn't speak English.  Hell, Jorge was probably Tony's favorite person he'd met here all weekend.

"Trickshot wanted to look for his brother, maybe it was something about that? Some of the omegas think their Alpha might have actually killed him, but you know, I thought that was maybe just kids being hysterical? You'd think that if he had killed him he would have kept a lot more quiet and no one would've heard about him waving a gun around all over the place." Steve sighed. "This is all so messy...all these Alphas just switching up their omegas when they get bored or they're too 'badly behaved.''" Steve tried for a smile and tried to joke. "You would have definitely gotten a better behaved omega than me at this point if you'd be arranged."

Tony's hackles were up and upset was pouring off him in waves.

"Hey." Steve reached out to Tony's free hand. "None of that," he said, voice gentle. "You're stronger than a man like Malick could ever hope to be. He's a joke. And if he's been in your situation, he never would have made it out of that cave alive."  With his other hand Steve reached up to push back the head of the onesie so he could run his fingers through Tony's hair. "I don't care what these people think of you, or me, or _us_. It's not their right to know, or to ask." He could still full an easy self-consciousness tug at his gut that Steve knew wasn't his own.

"One of the kids in the pen thought you were in your early thirties, you know," Steve said, trying to cheer him up. Really, the only thing that would make any of this better would be them leaving but they couldn't leave just yet. He hoped Hal was okay. Steve ran the pad of his thumb over the backs of Tony's knuckles.

"Tony," he whispered. "Are you alright? What can I do to make it feel better?"

Tony stared for a few long, long seconds, then his eyes refocused.

"...I'm fine.  Sorry. Fine." He forced a smile, and focused on his beer.  Steve was staring at him, concerned. Tony hated it. Hated how obviously it bothered him.  Steve was stroking his hand and his brows were furrowed with concern. Steve's face was very expressive.

"...early thirties, huh?" he said.  "...I bet this squirrel costume helps knock off a few years, too... y'know, I think it's actually a chipmunk or a hedgehog or something.  No tail, see? Well, there's a nub... you think Malick is gonna have to _discipline_ me for not getting a good enough squirrel get-up?"  Tony smirked. He was clearly intent on taking the squirrel costume bit as far as he could.

Jorge laughed appreciatively, even though it wasn't clear how much he understood.

"Well, we'd better go get his dry cleaning.  The car looks great, huh, Steve? Here, Jorge..."  Tony pulled out a pair of hundreds and handed then to Jorge.  Jorge thanked him.

Tony looked over at Steve.  "...you don't have to coddle me," he said, suddenly serious.  "I don't want to think about what happened. It's fine, okay? I'm fine.  ...can you take my collar off, though? My hackles are, like, burning..." He reached past the squirrel hood and scratched violently at his neck.

"I'm not coddling you," Steve said. "I'm just saying I'm here if you need me to be. I'm not trying to mother you. If you say it's fine then it's fine." He nodded and pulled out the key, taking the collar off. The skin underneath was red but not swollen like it had been the night before. Steve still felt bad for it all the same though.

"...where do the bad omegas go, though?" asked Tony suddenly.  "I don't think any of these guys are capable of murder, either.  They're a bunch of stiff, rich suits. If they wanted someone killed, they would hire someone else to do it, right?  ...but if they don't off them, what do you think happens to them? They can't just put 'em back into auction, not if they already have a mark on their neck and a history of being noncompliant."

"Maybe there's like a home...for the omegas whose rich Alphas reject them, or something like that. Somewhere where they're cared for but hidden away," Steve suggested. Before this he would have thought such a thing was ridiculous but now he wouldn't put it past any of them.

"If you're going out again I might go see the crowd outside," Steve said tentatively. "Say hi. Sign a few protest signs. I don't know. But I can't walk around without you in there and I've been banned from the omega area so..."

He shrugged. There's nothing Steve could do without getting himself kicked out.

"Well... I was gonna take Malick's shirts to the dry cleaner's and then go upstairs and nap," said Tony.  "But if you want to face the crowd, we can do that. They, uh, might not be happy to see us. I mean, you're in a collar and I'm dressed like a squirrel and we're at an Alpha conference.  But whatever you want, man. ...the press will want statements."

"A nap sounds tempting," Steve hummed, thinking it would be nice to have some peace and quiet for a bit. "I wouldn't go and face them in a collar. I think they'd go a little mental-- but if I'm outside of the conference I figure I technically don't have to wear it. I suppose we can face the crowd later, maybe. We don't have to do it now."

Tony mulled over his can of Tecate.

"...it's fucked up, isn't it?  But at least it seems like this is sort of... an underground culture.  Y'know, like white supremacists," said Tony. "Hey, Jorge, you want the rest of these beers?"  He held up the six-pack.

 _"Ah, si, gracias,_ Iron Man."

"It's really fucked up. They're so brainwashed...it makes me think that I could so easily have turned into one of these people and there's nothing I could have done about it unless someone had pulled me out," said Steve.  "...thanks, Jorge."  

He and Jorge shook hands.  Steve liked interacting with a beta.  It was refreshing to be around someone who was unstatused.

Tony hopped off the car he was sitting on, finished the beer, and crumpled up the can.  "Steve, once all those kids walk out, then what? Do we like, pay for them to stay at a hotel or something?  I don't want to start adopts strays..."

"Then Status Alliance will be there for them," Steve breathed. "Omegas supporting each other and all that. It's not our job to fix everything for them, we'd already be paying off their debts...getting them out is one thing but what happens next is up to them. We're not here to offer charity. We here to make people _think_."

"Yeah, okay.  I'm gonna go drop off Malick's shirts and then think up in our room for a while," said Tony.

Steve sighed and shook his head. "Forget it.  I'll just our room and wait for you. A nap sounds more tempting right now... you have fun at the dry cleaners." He leaned over to kiss Tony's cheek.

"I'll meet you up there," said Tony, turning his head to steal a kiss.  "Maybe we could fool around a bit." He linked arms with Steve. Malick's room was two floors above theirs, so Steve walked out of the elevator, leaving Tony on his own.

When he got to Malick's floor, he found Donner just leaving the room.

"Hey, Donner."

Donner mumbled a hello, and did a double-take at Tony's grey squirrel onesie.  Tony had pulled the hood back up over his head and the two ears were standing perkily. "...you two _really_ don't care, do you?" he asked, almost admiringly.

"If we did, we'd both go insane," said Tony.  "I'm here to pick up Malick's dry-cleaning. Any idea if there's an in-house service?"

"...you're not going to iron them yourself?"

"I'd probably end up setting them on fire.  It's a common misconception that my moniker means I'm capable of ironing a shirt," said Tony breezily.

"...I think there's in-house dry cleaning."

"Great!  I'll just have the staff do it for me and bill my room, then," said Tony cheerfully.  "...hey, Donner. What happens to omegas like Ashtray?"

"They go to auction."

"...but they've already been bonded."

Donner shook his head.  "It's not the same kind of auction," he said.

Oh, Tony was intrigued by that.  But Donner was edging away uncomfortably and Tony felt a stab of pity for him, and didn't press it.

He went back down the hall to the elevator to go back to his room, wondering what kind of auction it was and where it would be held and, perhaps most of all, how the hell it was legal.  Perhaps it wasn't.

Steve sighed in relief as he stepped into their suite. No DeSoto. No anyone. It was bliss. He stole some toast that was leftover from the morning and then moved to take off his collar as he swallowed a piece whole. He was beginning to doubt the auctionees would walk out...he was asking too much of them. It was too big of a risk. Steve wasn't just asking them to be brave; he was asking them to be reckless and risk a lot. And he felt kind of awful about that. Steve really had no right to do that.

This all felt like it was so much bigger than him. It was more than a little intimidating.

He left his collar on the bedside table and rubbed at his neck before toeing off his shoes and flopping down onto the bed. Steve hummed and closed his eyes, sun peeking through the curtains and warming his back as the light scattered across the sheets.

It was probably about ten minutes later when Steve heard the suite doors opening. He was worried it might be DeSoto but then he heard them open the bedroom door and Tony had specifically told him to stay out of their room. Steve made a noise of acknowledgement and blinked an eye open. A Brooklyn drawl crept into his voice. "What was that you said about foolin' around earlier?"

Tony's face broke into a huge smile at Steve's sleepy, heavy accent.  He loved it when Steve accidentally slipped up and dropped the G off of his verbs, spat out hard consonants and elongated his As.  He loved when Steve sometimes blurted something like you'd hear in an old noir movie, calling someone a punk, or saying something was swell.  Not to mention the occasional "gee!" or "applesauce!"

He walked over to the bed and climbed in, straddling Steve's hips.  "I have no idea what you're talking about," said Tony innocently, reaching down to play with Steve's zipper.  "I'm just a dumb furry squirrel. Got any nuts for me?" He grinned wider, tugging at Steve's clothes.

He had wondered, all weekend, what the bedroom lives of these Alpha-omega pairs were like.  Were the omegas are dopey and docile in bed as they were in public? Was sex just a chore to them?  Tony couldn't imagine any of them in heat, frankly.

Personally Tony loved Steve's.. well, what Steve would probably call "spunk" or "moxie."  Tony's favorite position with women had always been on his back, hands behind his head, letting them ride him, watching their breasts bounce.  Though Steve was lacking in that particular department, it was still fun to let him go to town. Tony couldn't imagine anyone as timid as Donner or DeSoto having _fun_ in the bedroom; he wondered if omegas like Ashtray and Trickshot had just laid there, or if they had fought, or what.  It was chilling to think about.

Tony leaned down and grabbed Steve's shirt in his teeth, giving it a tug.  "If you undress I might just show you what's under my fur," he joked. Tony had every intention of going to the auction dressed as a squirrel and standing neck to Malick to embarrass him.

Steve's breath hitched and he opened his eyes properly when there was suddenly a Tony on top of him, tugging at his jeans. Ever since Tony had pressed at the back of his neck in the omega pen, his mind had half been on this. He'd known Tony had wanted it in that moment, he could _feel_ it. And he could feel it again now. "Please don't joke about being a squirrel." He laughed gently. "It'll make me think of that weird furry thing Clint showed me..."

The twenty-first century was very strange sometimes.

"Clint showed you furries?  Oof.  Sorry, buddy.  I tried to protect you," said Tony, laughing. 

"If you don't undress not much is gonna be happenin' pal," Steve told him and tugged Tony up by his onesie's shoulder to kiss him.The kiss was slow and lazy and at some point Steve's shirt was being pushed up and over his head and dropped onto the floor. Then he pulled back a fraction and looked Tony up and down. "We're really gonna have to lose the squirrel suit. Seriously.  Not sure I can deal with this." He grinned and tugged on one of its ears.

Tony laughed and unzipped the front; he was only wearing an undershirt and pair of boxers under it.  "Yeah, me neither," he agreed, pulling it off and casting it aside. He ran his hands over Steve's bare chest; it was rock-hard; the muscles twitched in response to his touch and the skin got goosebumps.  He brushed a thumb over one of Steve's nipples and it pebbled immediately.

Tony grinned and reached up to cup Steve's face, stroking it with his thumb.  Slowly, he reached behind Steve's ear. "...may I?" he ventured. He wasn't usually so _proper_ , but after seeing what that spot did, he didn't want to just help himself.  But now that they were in private he desperately wanted to explore. Every time he glanced into the hospitality suite, he'd seen a crowd of young, attractive omegas in collars, and he was, after all, only human.  Of course it turned him on.

Steve sighed softly as Tony's hands explored him, arcing up into his touch on instinct. He was tense from the conference, the constant being on guard and holding himself back...but underneath Tony like this he could feel himself letting go. He closed his eyes briefly and then shivered when he felt Tony's fingers graze close to that special spot on the back of his neck. Steve bit down on his bottom lip. It had been embarrassing, kneeling like that and having Malick see him-- but aside from that it had felt good, better than it had any right to. And certainly better than it had felt when Frond did it.

Steve opened his eyes and looked up at him. He reached up to trace his fingers along Tony's jaw, his thumb swiping over the cushion of his bottom lip. It was almost like he was pretending to consider it, when they both already knew the answer. "You may," he murmured. "Maybe try... pushing down, for a bit longer," Steve suggested tentatively. He was curious to see just how far its effects could go.

Tony's tongue flicked out onto Steve's fingertips as Steve touched his lips.

"...mm'k... first, let's get these off..." said Tony, tugging at Steve's waistband.  He took the hem of his own shirt and pulled it over his head, immediately throwing both of them in the bluish glow of the arc reactor.  He kicked off his boxers without any hesitation, his hands roaming Steve's body as much as possible, touching his neck and face and chest and shoulders.  He paused for a moment with his fingers lightly on Steve's throat. He thought about asking him to wear the collar, but that seemed like it would be too much, so he kept his mouth shut.

Steve helped Tony undress them both, humming contently when they were pressed together. Steve curled his arms around Tony's shoulders and pulled him closer, dragging his teeth lightly along Tony's jawline as the other's fingers grazed along his side and then back up to his throat. Steve shivered when Tony's fingers lingered there  and he remembered when Clint told him that some people like to be strangled. That there was always someone who was into 'anything and everything' nowadays.

...he really needed to stop letting Clint try to help educate him.

The moment Steve's clothes were off, he laid down on top of Steve, squirming their bodies together, kissing Steve's face.

" 'mega," said Tony adoringly, tracing along the rim of Steve's ear before reaching behind it.

It took him a moment.  He pressed, and nothing happened; stroked, pressed, still nothing.

Then he found it.  It was subtle, but Steve's reaction was not; his eyes glazed and his lips parted in a half-sigh, half-groan.

"...good omega..." whispered Tony, pressing gently, stroking the skin on Steve's neck.

Steve's eyes darkened when Tony's tongue darted out.

The moment Tony pressed down on the gland Steve's body light up with sensation. He whimpered and belatedly realised the noise had come from himself . Every time Tony stroked against the gland it felt like he was touching him _down there_ and Steve could feel himself squirming, his thighs getting wet. His breath was hitched and when he looked up all he could see was Tony.

"T-Tony...A-Alpha..." Steve struggled to get the words out. The utter _need_ he felt in that moment was impossible to articulate. He just shuddered against the sheets and arced up into Tony's touch, silently asking for more. Outside of his heat Steve didn't think he'd ever felt more vulnerable. But he trusted Tony, there was no question of it, it was as simple as breathing.

Tony growled affectionately as Steve squirmed under him; he reached up with his other hand to press behind Steve's other ear.  "Yeah... there you go... good boy..." he murmured. Steve's smell had intensified a hundredfold, like he was in pre-heat, and Tony could smell his arousal, and his fingers were getting very, very slightly oily from massaging the scent glands; Tony was in Alpha heaven; he was rock-hard and rubbing himself against Steve's thigh without even thinking about it, blissfully huffing his omega's smell, body quivering with expectation, his knot already swollen and throbbing.

"Steve," he repeated, mouth watering.  He paused from the small, circular little motion he'd been making with his fingers, but kept them pressed behind Steve's ears.  "Steve, would you... um... would it be okay if you wore the collar for me?"

Steve's body was arching under Tony, desperately, expectantly, raising his hips, an invitation.  It was like he was in heat or something. Tony's cock grazed the inside of Steve's thigh and came away slick; Steve was practically dripping.

Steve whined loudly when Tony pressed behind his other ear too and the sensation impossibly intensified. And then Tony called him a _good boy_ and he was pretty sure he felt his own cock twitch against his thigh in response. When they were downstairs in the conference and alphas called their omegas 'good boy' and 'good girl' it had made Steve feel sick. But here...in bed with Tony, it turned him on more than anything else.

His eyes were glazed over, lips still parted as he let out little whimpers and gasps. The question Tony had asked took a while to register in Steve's brain. He nodded without thinking. "P-please..." He whispered, whining in disapproval when Tony pulled one hand away to grab the collar from the bedside table.

He would do practically anything for Tony in that moment, including wear the collar. Right now Steve only cared about one thing.

Tony reached out to grab the collar; Steve was whining and whimpering and wiggling under him, fingers clenched on the sheets, his eyes following Tony with a sort of dumbstruck reverence.

"I need you. I _need_ you, Alpha, _please_."

"Shh... shh, shh, I'm all yours, I'm here for you," murmured Tony.  Gently, he slid the collar around Steve's neck; it clicked; Tony took a half-second to appreciate the scene before him, Steve Rogers, naked and shimmering with sweat, arching and whimpering, the jeweled collar heavy on his neck, the sapphires complimenting his eyes perfectly.

Steve was teetering on the edge the whole time. His whole body trembled with a euphoric sensation that almost made it feel like his body was not his own. There was brief moment when he wasn't aware of himself, wasn't aware of anything but the feeling of Tony touching him. The hands behind his ears and the cock pressing against his hip.

Tony didn't take longer than a second to admire his mate naked except for the collar, because Steve was practically crying with desperation; Tony flopped back down on him, propping himself up with his elbows and resuming his massage behind Steve's ears.  Steve's breath was hitching and Tony was pretty sure he was already on the edge of orgasm. But the moment he was touching Steve's glands, that rich, complex, musky smell was back and Tony's brain flipped off again, to the begging omega under him.

"Yes... yes... yes... yes..." Tony hooked him fingers into Steve's collar and tugged him to the side, pushing him to roll him over; Steve was like putty, practically mind-reading what he wanted; he was already on his knees, head down, legs spread invitingly, presenting himself, and Tony was climbing onto him, pushing himself into his warm, inviting entrance.

Steve was soaking wet, perfectly slippery, but still tight; his body practically sucked Tony in and it took only two pushes, two little grunts of effort, to get the knot in.

When Tony tugged on the collar it tightened around Steve's neck and he felt a tremor up his spine as his Alpha moved him to where he wanted him to be. The position came naturally. This was how it was supposed to be; with Steve on his hands and knees for him, ready and waiting. Then he felt Tony's warm and presence behind him and-- _yes._

Tony leaned down to nose against Steve's neck; collars were no longer designed to "protect" the bonding gland, and Tony could see the mark just above the rim of the silver-plated vibranium; without thinking, he bit, sinking his teeth into flesh, aggressively, animalistically; his fingers were digging into Steve's hips, probably bruising them; he was already balls-deep but still pushing, pulling on the back of Steve's neck with his mouth like maybe he could tug Steve further onto his cock, which was throbbing so blissfully inside him--

Steve groaned and threw his head back as he rocked back onto his alpha's cock, words completely lost to him. It didn't even hurt when Tony pressed inside. He was ready for him. He could take it. When Tony squeezed the knot in Steve whined low in his throat and nearly came right there and then. He didn't know how he managed not to.

Then Steve was crying out as Tony's teeth sank into the mark on the back of his neck and moments later he was coming. The pain combined with pleasure was _just_ right. His entrance tightened around Tony and he came over the sheets with a scream, fingers digging into the sheets beneath him as his head ducked down low, panting as he rode out his orgasm and took what Tony gave to him. He whined loudly when Tony thrust inside and spilled into him, filling him up.  With his Alpha's hands on his hips now and not the glands Steve was finally coming back to himself, although the haze of his orgasm still fogged in his mind. He didn't think he'd come that hard in a very long time.

Tony lasted a full twelve seconds post-knotting, which was, honestly, remarkably given the circumstances.  He thrust into his omega, hard and fast and sharp, and when he finally reached climax, he buried his cock, pumping his semen into the other, his mouth clamped firmly over Steve's neck, groaning low with the satisfaction of release.

"Tony..." said Steve weakly. "Oh my _God_." At some point Steve's knees had stopped holding out and he ended up laid out on the bed with Tony plastered over him.

Tony sprawled out on top of Steve, panting heavily, trembling and weak.  Holy shit, they hadn't had sex like that since Yemen. Even _before_ Yemen, even _before_ their fight on New Year's, Tony couldn't remember mating as fierce and satisfying as that.

He nosed Steve's neck weakly; the bite mark there was tinged red.

Steve breathed out heavily and realised the other still had his mouth on his neck. "Does it-- does it taste okay?" he asked tentatively, suddenly a lot more with it than he had been before.

Steve's question registered and Tony blinked.  "It-- it tasted fine." He nosed Steve's neck again, baffled.  "You smell... normal. It... it felt completely normal this time."  He looked down at Steve's neck, hopeful.

The other mark was still there.  Tony's slightly overlapped.

Tony felt giddy, almost drunk.  "Oh... oh, _Steve_..."  He wrapped his arms around Steve's broad torso, burying his face between the other's shoulder blades, breathing in his scent.  He'd gotten so used to Steve smelling weird that he's stopped noticing. But now that Steve smelled like himself again, Tony couldn't even believe how much he had missed it, how Steve's scent sang to him, how perfect their bond felt, like they were two puzzle pieces that had been snapped together.

(This notion was only slightly reinforced by the fact that Tony had knotted Steve.  He couldn't remember the last time it had felt this tight; whether it was that Tony's knot was more swollen than normal or that Steve was clenching harder was anyone's guess.)

"It-- it tasted okay?" Steve sounded so hopeful; he almost didn't dare to believe it. But then Tony said he smelt normal too and Steve wanted to cry. It no longer felt like his body was betraying him, warring against him. He leaned his head down in the cushions and sighed contently at Tony's embrace, his eyes half slipping shut. He could feel Tony's own relief and happiness, the sensations swelling up in his own chest and blossoming. It was overwhelming. Steve let out a long breath.

"I feel like I could sleep forever," he murmured and wiggled against Tony lazily in a playful manner. Steve knew he would drift off if they stayed like this. But they did also have several hours until the auction. He also couldn't stop smiling.

"Maybe we should use a condom, if we do that again," Steve mumbled into a pillow. "Surely tricking my body like that ups the chances? I dunno, should check with Gleason..."

 _"Shit_."

They hadn't used a condom.

Fuck, why did Tony _always_ forget a condom?

Suddenly he was thinking about how Richard had said leaving the knot in increased the chances of pregnancy, and he was panicked.  He wiggled his hips, hoping to slide out, but it was absolutely impossible.

"Fuck... call Gleason... can we get, like, twenty Plan Bs or something?" asked  Tony in alarm. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... why are you so _tight_..."  He wiggled again but it didn't matter.  Tony's knot was too big at the moment. "This is Pepper's fault, I _told_ her I wanted to get a vasectomy, why wasn't the scheduled earlier?  Fuck... nngg..." He strained a little, giving one last tug, but Steve whined and he stopped.

"Tony. Hey. Don't panic. Please stop--" Steve grunted in relief when Tony stopped wiggling. He really was very sensitive down there right now and Tony squirming around was not helping him stay comfortable. "And the reason I'm so tight is because we're always too impatient for proper foreplay," he pointed out and tried to reach for his phone.

On the second attempt he managed to grab it.

Tony huffed and settled back down on Steve's back to wait it out.  He wished Steve hadn't mentioned the whole _pregnancy_ thing.  Ugh.

He brushed his fingers idly through his mate's hair.  Nothing they could do now, anyway.

"...we haven't really mated like that since last year," he said, hoping to recapture the peace both of them had been feeling before.  "...sorry it didn't last long."

He licked Steve's neck, mostly out of instinct.  It tasted like blood but there was none of the bitterness that it had once had.  Steve still had on the collar, and every time Tony looked at it, thought about how _Captain America_ was wearing a collar, just for him, his knot throbbed again.  He was beginning to think that they were going to be stuck for longer than a half-hour, this time.

Steve smiled as Tony apologised. He shot a text off to Gleason then dropped his phone. "It's okay. I still enjoyed it. I wasn't going to last long either; it was pretty intense. It was kind of insane. I can't believe I didn't know about something so...it's on my body and I didn't even know it was there. That's bad. I wonder if everyone else knows, and it's just me being from the forties and not getting taught this stuff."

Maybe it was the kind of thing they taught in sex ed but no one talked about after.

He shivered when Tony nuzzled and licked at the mark he'd left. Would this one stick properly? Surely it would...if it had tasted okay? 

"Gonna need to shower before we go back down," Steve said but still let his head drop back into the pillow, his eyes falling shut. "Else we'll stink of sex."

"...good," said Tony firmly.

He wondered if there were other parts on the two of them they didn't know about.  Both of them were woefully undereducated.

"...I didn't know about that either," he said.  "...Frond said it was tricky. She's right, I mean... unless you know it's there.  I don't think it's common knowledge. I dunno. Maybe you and me should sign up for an anatomy course at a community college or something."  He smiled faintly, settling down into Steve for a nap.

Steve's phone pinged; Tony reached for it.

" _Stimulating the scent glands only simulates a heat, doesn't actually induce it.  You won't spontaneously ovulate; no worries,"_ he read.  "...well, that answers that.  ...we should still seriously be more careful with the condom thing, though."  Tony set an alarm on Steve's phone. "Okay... we got a few hours. G'night, omega.  Love." He kissed the back of Steve's neck, inhaling the scent once again. To a beta, Steve wouldn't smell any different or any stronger than a regular person, but to Tony, it was like inhaling some delicious sort of perfume.  It made him feel excited and sexual before they mated, and sleepy and comforted afterward.

He wondered how often Bucky lay on top of Steve.  It was a natural position for an Alpha to want to take, to cover an omega's body with his own.  But how could Bucky had stood lying on top of Steve, sexless, with Steve's scent calling to him?  Did they do it clothed? Tony did not understand their bond and doubted he ever would.

He fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep, splayed out over Steve, his cheek pressed against his back, inhaling the smell that had been lost and had finally, _finally_ , against all expectations, come home to him.


	18. The Unlucky Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to those of you who guessed Trickshot's identity. Unfortunately you win no prizes.
> 
> However, if you'd like to win an actual prize, follow the link below to suggest a name for parts 1-4 of Omega Rising. Responses are anonymous and entry to the contest is free. You can win actual Marvel merch, or a cameo from a character of your choosing. (Yes, we are seriously that desperate. We suck at naming!)
> 
> https://goo.gl/forms/owng8a7o44TBOFlv2
> 
> \- Tony (aka Apollo)

Steve woke up to his alarm with a groan. He rubbed a hand over his face and felt the dead weight of Tony still sleeping on top of him. He reached over stiffly to stop his alarm. They didn't have long to get downstairs. "Tony," Steve nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Tony? C'mon, we gotta get up..." He let out a soft huff. Steve knew he would be sore later. It had certainly been on the rough side and everyone would see the fresh bite mark on his neck too. God, he hoped they didn't think they were getting something out of his conference. Frond teaching them about the gland had just been a weird and unexpected highlight during a very depressing few days.

When Tony finally shifted enough so Steve could move he slipped free to stand up. He moved to the bathroom to clean himself up, not really having time to shower now. Steve spotted himself in the mirror and saw the collar, admittedly having sort of forgotten it was there... it didn't bother him so much here, in private. It was more that this was a collar that everyone had seen, people like Malick... Steve didn't like that. If they were going to do this more often it had to be one that was just for _them_.

Steve stepped back out cleaner than before and moved to pull on his clothes. Tony was still in bed. He sighed fondly and moved over to kiss his forehead. "Come on. Up." He poked Tony's bicep. "I'll make you some coffee but you better be dressed when I come back in here..."

Tony groaned softly and pulled the blankets over his head.  The room reeked like sex and sweat. He made no motion to get up.

"I need a coffee IV," he mumbled as he heard Steve walking out to put a pot on.

When Steve stepped outside he stopped short; DeSoto was sitting on the couch.  His eyes widened. "How long have you been there?" he demanded.

DeSoto was perched in his usual place on the end of the couch; he had been watching TV, the volume so low it was practically muted.  "A few hours," he said, looking up."They have to clear out the pen for the auction stage, so Dr. McDermott escorted me back here. I already made coffee for Mr. Stark."  The room smelled rich with the freshly brewed pot. "The auction starts in an hour, officially, but they never actually get to bidding under a half-hour after. That way you have time to socialize and read the program with all the omegas' details, like their ages and where they're from and stuff like that."

A few hours could mean anything. It could mean DeSoto heard nothing or everything. Either way, Steve reminded himself he had nothing to be ashamed of and if anyone should feel embarrassed it should be DeSoto. But he still turned a little pink.

"So it's two hours until the shit actually hits the fan, got it," Steve said conversationally, trying to look casual.  DeSoto frowned.  "I mean the auction," clarified Steve.

From the bedroom, Tony heard the word "auction."

He came out wrapped in a bedsheet, hair wild.  There was no mistaking what he and Steve had been up to.

"Hey, DeSoto.  Question. Bad omegas... they get sent to auction, right?  Do you know anything about that?"

DeSoto shook his head vehemently.  "No. I'm not a bad omega," he said quickly.  " _Those_ auctions aren't for people like you, Mr. Stark."

"What kind of people go to those auctions?" Steve asked when Tony brought it up and DeSoto looked like he wished the sofa would eat him alive.  "Please," he said only, quietly. And Steve took the hint. He dropped the topic.

Tony was itching to know more but DeSoto looked nervous, like this wasn't a thing to talk about in mixed company.  Tony dragged himself into the kitchenette to pour a cup of coffee. He sipped it. "...good coffee, DeSoto."

DeSoto beamed.

"...Steve, c'mere," said Tony, jerking his head over to the kitchen.  "I want to talk to you _in private_."  He said the last part firmly.

DeSoto quickly stuck his fingers in his ears and turned away.

Steve grabbed a cup of coffee for himself and then headed into the bedroom. Steve could practically feel DeSoto's gaze boring into the fresh mark on the back of his neck.

Steve stepped in after Tony and then shut the door behind himself. He leaned against it. "What's wrong?"

Tony lowered his voice, just in case.  "Dude. I'm so curious about this thing with the auctions, with like, Ashtray and stuff.  Don't you wonder where they went? If _these_ people don't want to talk about it, it must be really bad.  And it doesn't sound legal. I wanna get DeSoto to tell us more but..."  Tony paused. "...I think I can get him to tell me. But I need to be able to talk to him... like an Alpha.  And I don't want you to get jealous. But if anyone here has any connections or we can get any dirt on that... I mean, I know you wanna stop _this_ auction, but shouldn't we try to stop all of 'em?  This shit's illegal! And even if it weren't, it's fucked up.  I wanna put _finding the 'bad' omega auctions_ onto our civil rights to-do list.  I've never heard of this, but even in normal society, you know how people treat omegas whose Alphas have distanced the bond.  Can you imagine what _this_ community probably does to them?  Plus, DeSoto's a perfect source of info... his Alpha's last omega got sent there and he knew him!"

Tony felt excited.  Maybe this was the thing about DeSoto that had interested him on poker night.  Wanting to know more about what happened to "bad omegas."

"...you understand that the only way he's gonna say anything, though, is if I talk to him... y'know."  Tony looked down at his coffee. DeSoto really had made some _great_ coffee.

Tony felt bad that he and Steve probably both saw DeSoto a bit like a dim child.  It was hard not to. Surely there was some personality under there, but it was buried deep, and Tony didn't have the time or patience to befriend DeSoto and just ask him normally.  He wasn't above using manipulation to get what he wanted. But he didn't want to treat an omega like the other Alphas did, especially not in front of Steve. Not without Steve's awareness of what he was doing, and his permission.

Steve was obviously uncomfortable at the idea. He didn't like it. He felt bad for DeSoto and he felt bad for Tony for having to do it- he knew the other wouldn't enjoy it. He sighed and looked away, running a hand over his face. Did this make them as bad as the alphas here? Steve didn't think so, but that didn't mean it sat well with him either. He finally looked back up at Tony, his expression a trusting one.

"Okay," he sighed and moved forward to run a hand through Tony's hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "But at least get dressed first.  And... I'm gonna stay in here, maybe. I don't know if I want to watch. I don't really want to see you like that."

Steve had only really seen Tony like that once. And that was during his heat, when they'd had a fight and he had told Steve to kneel in his drawing room. It had been an intense an fiery moment, an _intimate_ moment. Steve didn't like the thought of anything intimate occurring between Tony and DeSoto.

But this was about much more than just then.

"But you're right. We need to find out. I don't even know why, or understand how there's a 'market' for taken omegas. From everything I've seen so far... it doesn't make sense. Our 'to-do-list' is getting longer every minute we stay here. And we came here to find out everything we could, didn't we?  So... go get him," Steve said, and gently punched Tony's arm, even though he very much wanted this to be over and done with already.

Tony gave Steve a weak smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.  He could feel Steve's uneasiness in his gut.

"...I'd rather if you were there," he admitted quietly.  He felt like it wasn't fair that he was going to harangue poor, broken DeSoto, and Steve would get to sit in the kitchen or bedroom, blameless.  Tony already felt like the bad guy, just because he was an Alpha, part of the lucky class of people born into it. He didn't want to do this alone.  Besides, wasn't interrogation Steve's thing? In Cuba, he'd broken a guy's leg.

"Okay," Steve breathed. It was only fair. Tony had seen him kill people before...now it was his turn to watch. Although Tony wouldn't be killing anyone. It seemed DeSoto's own alpha was capable of doing a good job of that himself. Steve felt so sorry for him and it sort of felt like Steve had failed to...because if he had really gotten through to DeSoto, they wouldn't have to be doing this.

Had he gotten through to the auctionees? Shit. If they setting up the stage... probably not. Steve's heart sank.

Tony shuffled out of the kitchen, through the living room.  DeSoto was staring at the television, fingers still in his ears.  Tony wondered if he would sit like that all day unless Tony stopped him.

He retreated to the bedroom to shower and get dressed.  He was halfway through putting on the squirrel onesie when he realized that DeSoto probably wouldn't be able to see him as a strong Alpha if he was dressed like a child.  He switched to slacks and button-up, and ran some gel through his hair before going back out.

Yep.  DeSoto's fingers were still in his ears.

Tony crossed the room to get another cup of coffee, but only filled it halfway.  He topped the rest off with vodka from the bar, then walked into the living room to tap DeSoto's shoulder.

"Hey.  All done.  Thanks for giving us some space," said Tony.

"No problem," said DeSoto.

Tony settled down onto the couch opposite to DeSoto's.  DeSoto's eyes followed him instead of the television.

"...this is seriously great coffee.  Better even that Steve makes," said Tony.

DeSoto smiled.  "Thank you," he breathed.

"You must make coffee every morning for Ron, huh?"

"Yessir."

"Bet he appreciates it, too."

"Yessir."

Tony looked down at the mug in his hands.  Well, he'd certainly gotten DeSoto's attention.  Frankly, DeSoto seemed desperate for any sort of positive reinforcement, and little wonder, considering his Alpha thought it was good sport to make him fight other omegas.  It was odd, so odd, like there were two Rons, because one of them was a tyrannical asshole who waved guns at his partners and the other was a guy Tony had played poker and shared a glass of gin with the night before.  Ron had seemed normal. It was like these types of Alphas were vampires or skin-walkers or something, and the idea that Tony had probably interacted with plenty of them in his day-to-day life without having any idea what the domestic situation was like creeped him out.  Like that guy he'd seen who was a Stark Industries big-shot... how many Alphas in his life were terrible people behind closed doors?

...was Howard secretly like that with Jarvis?

DeSoto was still watching Tony attentively.  Tony took a sip of coffee to buy himself some time.

Steve had gotten lost in his own head; he busied himself with the coffee while DeSoto and Tony talked.  As silence spooled out, he poured himself a warm-up and walked over to them.  DeSoto didn't even look up at him, his attention remaining fixed on Tony. It was both rude and unsettling.

Steve moved to sit on Tony's sofa. He could smell the alcohol in his coffee. He wondered if the bite mark had helped given Tony the confidence to do this, if 'fixing' the way Steve smelt meant he could more easily go all 'Alpha' on DeSoto.

Now that Steve was sat closer DeSoto did look at him, briefly. Maybe he did smell different to him too. If he did, DeSoto was too polite to say so.

He guessed he was supposed to play bad cop for the time being, if he was a 'bad omega' too.

"Is Ron the kind of guy who goes to those auctions?"

"He'll be going to the auction tonight, yes."

"You know what I mean," Steve said impatiently. "I'm not talking about tonight."

DeSoto looked away from Steve, biting his bottom lip very slightly.

Tony took another sip of coffee, then said, "DeSoto."  He said it a hell of a lot sharper than he meant to. It came hard, stern... like he was channeling his inner Howard or something.

DeSoto's head snapped back over.

"DeSoto, I want to know about what happens to bad omegas," said Tony, voice hard.  Actually, this wasn't hard. He was mentally pretending he was arguing with an impatient board member who refused to dump more profits into R&D.  "I want to know about where those omegas go, the auctions or who buys them."

DeSoto's eyes watered.  "...are you... are you gonna get rid of Steve?" he asked in a tiny voice.

With horror, Tony realized what this must seem like from DeSoto's fucked up point of view.  Tony had been acting more and more Alphaish, hanging out with other Alphas, and Steve was clearly mis-behaved...

"Oh... oh, no; no no no, DeSoto.  No, of course not, I'm not going to do that, I... I love Steve.  I love him with all my heart, more than I can even tell you. I'd never get rid of him.  C'mon, you'd have to be a moron to get rid of Steve. No, I just--" Tony had lost the authoritative voice from earlier.  He realized, too late, that he was now reasoning with DeSoto, like he was a person. Which he was. "--just want to know what happened to Ashtray and Trickshot."

DeSoto shook his head.  "They're gone now."

"Are they dead?"

"No... I don't think so.  They just give them away to someone else."

" _Who,_ DeSoto?" asked Tony, starting to lose patience.  "Who the hell would want to buy a 'used' omega?"

DeSoto shrugged weakly.  "Lots of people, um, camps, and maybe... maybe people who wanted a house omega... um... maybe... maybe people who... who rent them, you know..."

"Why would a camp--" began Tony.

"For practice."

"What do you mean, _practice_?"

DeSoto was shrinking a little, staring at the floor.  He shrugged.

Well, this wasn't going anywhere.

Tony took a deep breath to re-orient himself, then said, sternly, "DeSoto.  Come here. Now."

DeSoto got up and walked over to Tony.

"...kneel."

DeSoto knelt.

Tony reached out and put a hand on the back of his head, pulling him forward, pressing his face against Tony's leg.  Tony stroked his head softly; DeSoto was relaxing. Tony shot Steve a look of apology. This felt weird.

"You're a good omega, DeSoto.  I'm happy I won you. You're a good example to Steve and I'm learning so much from you."

DeSoto hummed contentedly.

"I would never get rid of Steve.  Ever. I distanced our bond, once, and it was the worst feeling in the world.  I'd never do that again. I'm only asking about where bad omegas go because I want to know where Ash and Tricky went.  ...heck, maybe if I got one to help around the house and show Steve the ropes, it would improve our relationship."

DeSoto hummed again. 

Contrary to DeSoto's calm face, Steve had a look of horror on his. And it wasn't because DeSoto was kneeling for Tony. That was _weird_ in itself. It almost felt like he was watching Tony kiss someone else and it was made even more awkward by the fact that Tony wasn't enjoying doing it. Tony's own uncomfortableness was palpable. But Steve was horrified because he understood.  He didn't need DeSoto to explain anymore. He got it.

"Tony--" He was struggling to get the words out. It was so hard to say it. It was so very, very wrong.

"He means--" Steve leaned down, his head in his hands. "He means the camps use them so the omegas can practice being Alphas." The words tasted foul in his mouth. "The people who don't care about an omega being used are other omegas who are being forced into Alphahood.  So they either end up as servants in peoples' homes who can't leave, forced into prostitution or... camps. Jesus Christ." He hated himself for it but he wondered if Ty had done it...had been with another omega they'd bought off some dodgy auction because they told him to.

Every bone in Steve's body wanted to tear downstairs and scream in Mike's face, or go up to DeSoto's Alpha and clock him in the jaw. These Alphas had no love for their partners, not if they resigned them to this kind of fate. Steve felt like he was going to be sick, maybe, and DeSoto being all sweet and submissive for Tony beside him was not helping.

"They don't hurt them," DeSoto said, voice small. "They just teach them how to be good for their omegas. How to treat them right."

"It's still _rape_!" Steve snapped, blue eyes fiery and DeSoto visibly flinched.

Steve so angry he was shaking. 

DeSoto pressed harder into Tony.  Tony shot Steve a warning look. but reached out with a hand to place on Steve's leg.  Steve's muscles flexed under his skin, like he was ready to get up and start punching something.  Tony hoped his touch was grounding; ending human trafficking wasn't something you could punch away, unfortunately.

"Steve," he said, sternly.  "Please don't yell at DeSoto, he's being very good."  He patted DeSoto.

Encouraged by the praise DeSoto mumbled, "They-- they don't use all of them like that, the doctors use them, too, to make sure they can do arvincolectomies and put hackles in right."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," said Tony before he could catch himself.  He quickly shoved down his revulsion and gently touched behind DeSoto's ear, just brushing the skin, not pressing.  "DeSoto, I'm very proud of you, you're such a good omega, and you're being very brave. ...if I wanted to get myself a _used_ omega, like Trickshot, say, where would I go?"

"I dunno," said DeSoto meekly.  "Ron doesn't go to those. They're not common, most omegas here are good, we love our Alphas."

Tony resisted the urge to slap DeSoto.  It wasn't his fault he was like this; no doubt seeing Trickshot disappear had been traumatizing.  Ron probably threatened DeSoto with the same fate, all the time; no wonder DeSoto was so meek. "But he got rid of Trickshot, didn't he?  He had to take him somewhere, didn't he?"

"...Mr. Bennett, I think.  I think he talked to Mr. Bennett."  DeSoto dared to glance up, almost hopefully.  "...could _you_ adopt Tricky?"

"Sure, maybe, yeah," said Tony, who was lying.  He had no intention of buying, adopting, or otherwise acquiring anyone.  Having DeSoto hover around obsequiously was annoying; Tony had always hated yes-men, groveling little toadies who sucked up to him.  He appreciated being lavished with praise and attention, but he felt it only had value if he earned it. If someone was in awe of him because he had just leveled a mountain with the Ambassor IV Rocket, great!  But if someone was in awe of him only because he was rich and powerful, well, fuck them.

But it seemed like the only thing DeSoto was interested in, other than obeying Alpha orders, was Trickshot's fate, and if Tony could use that, great.  "We're gonna try to find him. ...we can find him, right, Steve? Would that make you happy, DeSoto? If we found Trickshot and made sure he ended up somewhere better?  Maybe we could even call Ron and let him tell you where he is."

DeSoto nodded his head against Tony's leg, his fingers reaching up to caress the fabric of Tony's slacks.  Again, Tony resisted the urge to slap him away.

"Piper said Steve could find her sister, Marybeth," breathed DeSoto.  "...she probably doesn't go by Marybeth anymore. ...but if you could find Tricksh--"

Tony was momentarily distracted and interrupted.  "Yeah, okay, what's the _deal_ with that?  Your Alphas rename you?"

"Uh-huh.  Most of us change our names to the one our Alpha gives us, but Trickshot wouldn't do it.  He wouldn't. He and Alpha fought about that a lot, because you have to sign the paper yourself, and Tricky wouldn't even though Alpha wanted to.  But he came with his name, his horseshoe name, I mean, he and his brother already got named by the man who sold Trickshot, but Trickshot wasn't bonded yet."  (DeSoto said the last part quickly, as if he was worried that Tony might think Ron had bought Trickshot "used," because he already had a stupid nickname.)

"Is that why I keep meeting people with weird My Little Pony names, like Shimmer and Whirlwind and... I mean, goddamn, _Waffles,_ what the fuck--"

"Don't you call Virginia Potts _Pepper_?" asked DeSoto.  There was no bite to his words, no accusation.  He was only asking.

Tony was surprised to find himself humbled.  Yes, he actually did tend to give nicknames to... well, everyone.  Rhodey, Pepper, Happy... when he liked someone, they usually ended up with a pet name.  He had no idea that these extremist Alphas did that to their omegas, though. And he wasn't trying to be demeaning to them, he was just being friendly.

"You caught me, buddy," said Tony, patting DeSoto again.  "...hey, what was your old name, DeSoto?"

DeSoto paused for a long time, then muttered, "Jeremy.  But please don't call me that. They get mad if we use our old names."

Tony exchanged a glance at Steve.  Holy shit, this Alpha rights shit, it was like a cult.

Steve was still shaking visibly. He'd never felt so disgusted in his entire life. It just kept getting worse. They'd thought the auction on tonight was bad enough, and now this... this was the kind of shit SHIELD would deal with. Steve didn't want a bring a load of lawsuits against the kind of people who would abuse and mutilate these abandoned omegas. He wanted to hunt them down and _end_ them. These people were monstrous and they didn't deserve mercy.  This was no different than how Zola had treated prisoners of war back in 1943.  Steve was trying not to let himself think of the camp he had liberated, or what Bucky had endured there.

Watching DeSoto paw at Tony's leg certainly didn't help Steve calm down. He found it worrying, that he would do this for any Alpha... Steve had thought it was awful how each Alpha would happily switch through omegas until they got one they were happy with. But maybe the omegas weren't so different...maybe it was learnt behaviour and maybe DeSoto would do this for any Alpha who asked sternly enough. Which in itself was very worrying. It made them vulnerable. DeSoto didn't look vulnerable. He looked strong, but he was subject to the whims of his Alpha... a man who had _shot_ him.

"What does Bennett look like?" Steve asked, trying to focus on what was important here. DeSoto obviously didn't like answering his questions as much as Tony's, but he still did it.

"He's tall. Thin. Got black hair."

"Does he have a mate?"

"I...I don't know."

"You know his first name?"

"George?" DeSoto half guessed. "It begins with a 'G'."

Steve pulled out his phone. There was no reply from Phil about Piper's sister yet, which could be a bad or a good sign.

He texted Natasha:

_ > Do you guys ever look into omega trafficking stuff? SR _

_ > I haven't been around it for a very long. Why do you ask? NR _

_ > I think there's guy involved here. SR _

_ > Send me his details. NR _

Steve turned and met Tony's uncomfortable gaze. "We need to get that guy's business card."

Tony nodded at Steve.  "I think I know him, I saw him at one of the workshops and I remember him from poker night."

He still had one hand on Steve's leg and another on DeSoto's head.

He felt like he might be sick; his own uneasiness was being compounded by Steve's.  Steve was angry and revolted and Tony could feel it all and in that moment he almost wished he was unbonded, because the weight of the emotions were bordering on unbearable.

DeSoto, sensing the tension, was still pawing at Tony's leg, his natural omega urge to nurture an Alpha, to make Tony feel better, as clear as the look of concern written on his face.  Tony was absently patting him, trying to impart some calm; he felt nothing but pity for DeSoto.

They had come to this conference with the full awareness that there were extremists in the world, Alphas who had downright medieval views on bonding.  But uncovering actual human trafficking, a sick subculture within an already sick subculture... Tony doubted either of them could have adequately mentally prepared for that.

And worse, Tony was going to have to go talk to the guy, look him in the eye and pleasantly chat and get his card... it had to be Tony, Tony was an Alpha... Tony wasn't like Steve or Natasha.  He didn't do undercover operatives. His style was loud and brash and direct. Hell, there was a _reason_ Iron Man was bright red.  He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to handle that.  Time was of the essence; if any of the unbonded omegas downstairs walked out, then no one would give Tony the time of day.

Fuck.

He realized DeSoto had said something.

"What?" he asked, looking down.

"I'm sorry."

"DeSoto, I'm not angry at you," said Tony.  His voice sounded tired and impatient, even to him.  "I'm going to talk to Ron and tell him how good you were and how happy I am that I won some time with you."

"I'm not like Tricky, I'm a good--"

"I know, I know, I know.  And don't worry about Trickshot, me and Steve are going to find him."  Tony didn't add that he doubted Trickshot was in the best shape, where ever he was.  "Steve, text Coulson about finding Tricky, will you? What was his real name, DeSoto?"

"Trickshot."

Tony resisted the urge to groan.  "...I _meant_ his _legal birth_ name."

"Oh.  Charles.  Charles Bernard Barton."

"I'm sorry, _what_ did you say his last name was?"

"Barton," DeSoto said patiently.

Steve's heart was in his throat. "As in B-A-R-T-O-N?"

"Yeah, how else would you spell it?"

Did Clint have a brother? Fuck. Now Steve was trying to remember and he couldn't, like every conversation he could possibly have ever had with Clint was fuzzed out of his memory. He didn't know. And even then, how common a surname was Barton? The conference attracted people from all over, the chances were minute but-- but it was worth checking. Steve knew Clint had had a rough start. It wouldn't be unusual for his brother to have been... bought. Shit. 

"I'm gonna make a call real quick," Steve said, his voice a little high pitched. He shot Tony a serious look.

Steve darted off, leaving Tony with DeSoto.  Tony, almost childishly, wanted to call after Steve not to leave him alone with DeSoto.  But his brain was in hyperdrive.

Barton had to be a super-common name, right?  There was no possible relation there, right?  He strained to listen to the muffled conversation going on in the bedroom.

Steve had only barely slammed the door behind him before he had Phil on the phone.  "Steve? Er, what is it? Is it about that girl's sister--"

"Did Clint have a brother? He did, didn't he?" demanded Steve without so much as an introductory hello.

"Yes, but I don't see how that's relevant to that girl's--"

"Was his first name Charles?"

"Steve," Phil let out a sigh. "What's going on?"

"They sell the omegas they don't want. They have auctions. They sell them servants, prostitutes... human guinea pigs. They practice those awful surgeries on them and then use them so other omegas can practise, in these camps, and all of the omegas here are so brain-washed that none of them even see anything wrong with it...it's horrible."

Phil was silent.

Steve straightened up. "Did you already _know_ about all this?"

"Steve--"

"Why didn't you tell me? You told me things were better now! You could have mentioned _this_."

"You can't fix the world Steve," Phil breathed. "Take down one auction house, another crops up. You know how it goes.  Besides, in most of these cases, omegas won't press charges.  As you said, they're brain-washed.  The omegas in those sorts of places oppress themselves and we can't tear apart the network if they don't cooperate."

Did that mean Natasha and Clint knew too? Did everyone in SHIELD know? Was this only news to Tony and Steve? Steve was furiously pacing now. "Clint's brother," he said. " _What's his full name?_ "

Most of the conversation had been muffled by the door but Tony and DeSoto heard the last part loud and clear.  Steve sounded like he had gotten fairly worked up.

DeSoto looked at Tony, sharply, concerned.

"--it's okay," Tony said quickly.

"What's wrong?  ...what's--"

Tony poked his behind the ear and DeSoto practically melted.  It was a dirty trick, Tony knew that, but he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown and he couldn't deal with a panicked omega babbling about "being good" and shit.  The scent glands provided a rather easy bypass to relaxing an omega. DeSoto was still kneeling but was limp over Tony's lap, eyes glazed, looking perfectly content.

 _...at least one of us is okay,_ thought Tony grimly.  He could hear Steve talking on the phone in the other room but couldn't make out what was being said.

On the phone, Phil was quiet for a moment.  "Steve. Listen to me. There's a lot of things wrong with the world.  We focus on the most egregious wrongs but the world will never be perfect.  Human trafficking is a problem everywhere. Things _are_ better for us now than in your time.  Arranged bonding is illegal.  Every year, fewer omegas are bought or sold or traded.  But yes, there are still underground auctions houses and black markets, and we didn't tell you because we knew you couldn't handle hearing about it.  We can't have you flying off the handle every time you find out about an injustice in the world. The world's full of them. You'll go crazy trying to solve them all."  Phil didn't sound defeated, just tired. Years-- decades-- of being a SHIELD agent meant that he had seen it all, knew just how bad things got. He'd been on plenty of cases that haunted him.  Everyone had. Being the one to break it to Captain America that life wasn't fair, even in the modern-day United States, was a heavy burden in and of itself.

"Clint always referred to him as Barney.  I think it's short for Bernard," said Phil, finally answering Steve's question.  "I don't have his file on me; Clint lost his brother twenty-five years ago and doesn't talk about it much. ...no, wait, it's Charlie.  Charles Bernard Barton, that's it. ...did someone mention him? Listen, Steve, Clint had a rough childhood. You know that. Don't let the personal aspect of this compromise you.  Let sleeping dogs lie. Clint accepted that loss a while ago and it wouldn't be fair to him to open up old wounds."

Phil was speaking, in part, at least, as a friend, not an agent.  Phil knew that he, personally, wanted nothing to do with his past.  He imagined Clint didn't, either. Omegas born in the seventies rarely did.

"His old Alpha is here," said Steve.  "And his... his 'second' omega is in our hotel room," Steve said, his mind spinning with the revelation. "They know his real name.  They _know_ him!  I just- oh my God." He leaned his head in his hand. Did he tell Clint, or Natasha? Could they deal with this news right now? And like Phil said... Clint might not even want to hear it.

"Really?" Phil whispered, voice strained.

"Really," Steve said. "The omega's name is DeSoto. He's totally subordinate to his Alpha. It's insane. He's prepared to do literally anything for his mate , even though he _shot_ him! In the arm only, but still... he shot him because he was pointing at gun at Charles. Because Charles was running away... to _find his brother,_ " he finished softly, realising just who that _brother_ was. Steve's heart sank.

"They said he ran away but DeSoto thinks he might have been taken to the auctions," Steve said. "I know you think Clint wants gone with his past but maybe-- maybe I could track him down."

"Steve," Phil said calmly. "You do know he's...he's probably dead."

"But what if he isn't?" Steve whispered. He peered through the door then opened it, leaning in the doorway. Tony looked over his shoulder and met Steve's gave, and the look Steve gave him was enough for the Alpha to _know_.

Tony's eyes widened.

He felt completely and totally stunned.

And this... _this_ had been the thing he was trying to remember!  Ron must have mentioned--

_They were hovering by the bar, drinking champagne cocktails, and Tony was feeling wonderfully numb.  The man beside him ordered them two gins. "You know, Stark, you're not at all how I expected you to be."_

_"You expected an asshole, huh?" asked Tony glibly, grinning._

_The man smiled back at him.  "Guilty. ...when I heard you were here with your mate, I just assumed it was to cause a ruckus.  But it's really just him, isn't it? He's a feisty one. You, you're all right."_

_Tony's grin widened.  "I like them feisty."_

_"Scent-mates, I assume?"_

_"Yeah.  He went into heat and ever since then, I've been head-over-heels, like a chump.  You know how pheromones are..."_

_"Oh, don't I know it," said the man, laughing.  "My first omega was a scent-mate; I won him in a card game and mated him right away.  Didn't stop to think. Just had to have him. He turned out to be nothing but trouble."_

_"What, too feisty?" asked Tony mockingly._

_The other man smiled indulgently.  "...understatement of the century. Hell, he made your Steve look good!  Trickshot was awful. He was a fighter, that one."_

_"DeSoto's yours, right?  He's a fighter, too."_

_"Oh, DeSoto's nothing but fluff on the inside.  No, Tricky was mean to the bone. He had a brother the same way, from what I hear.  Never shut up about him. Hawkeye this, Hawkeye that."_

_"Hawkeye?" repeated Tony, who was chasing an olive around his glass.  "That was some poor schmuck's actual name? Oh, man, Clint'll be so pissed!"  The idea of ruining Clint's code name by informing him that it was an omega name delighted Tony._

_"Who's Clint?"_

_"Some guy I know with stupid hair.  So you divorced Trickshot?"_

_"Had to.  There was no peace in the house.  It wasn't fair to DeSoto. Things are a hell of a lot calmer now.  ...say, want to see how I won ol' Tricky?"_

_"Just because I'm drunk doesn't mean I'm bad at poker," said Tony warningly, pushing off from the bar with a wobble._

_"Prove it to me, Stark.  Bet you a night with my omega against a night with yours."_

_Tony laughed because he knew Steve would destroy this guy.  "Deal. And you can call me Tony, just Tony; Stark was my dad."_

_"Alright, then, Tony.  Ron." They shook hands and staggered off to play a round.  Tony won with ease, and bought the next round._

In the doorway, with Tony watching, Steve wrapped up his conversation with Phil.  "We should talk about this another time, maybe," Steve suggested, and Phil hummed in agreement. "Maybe have a poke around if you have the time; don't worry if you don't. I imagine you have a lot on your plate.  I'm gathering lots of intel here and I can relay it back to you later."

"I can always make time for Clint," Phil said. "But yes. Have a think, and I'll... have a think too.  Let's not do anything too rash."

Phil hung up.  Steve wondered if Phil appreciated the irony of telling him, Captain America, not to behave rashly.  Steve had always acted on his gut and that had always served him well.

Steve tucked the phone away and stepped back into the living room properly.

"The auction will start soon," DeSoto said, breaking the quiet that had settled between them. He was clearly curious about who Steve had been talking to on the phone, but didn't ask.

Steve was ready to get out of here already. He didn't want to stay another night, especially not with DeSoto lingering around.

"You need to get your squirrel suit on," Steve told Tony, the edge of his lips hinting up in a smile but he couldn't quite manage a proper one. There had been too many revelations for one day. Steve felt like he needed to sit down for... a while.

But there was places they needed to be.

He let out a nervous breath. The kids weren't going to walk out. Steve hadn't said the right things; he'd been too presumptuous.  Like Phil said, the omegas were part of it.  Victims, yes, but also instrumental in protecting their oppressors.

Tony stared at Steve, every inch of him itching to ask.  He opened his mouth, then closed it, then nodded. "Right.  Squirrel," he agreed tightly.

DeSoto's soulful brown eyes drifted from Tony, to Steve, back to Tony.

"Come on, buddy.  Let's get you back to your proper Alpha.  ...maybe he can re-introduce me and Bennett," said Tony, pushing DeSoto from his lap and standing up.

"I'm not in trouble?"

"No, once again, you're not in trouble.  You're a very good omega," said Tony. His patience was wearing thinner and thinner.

He went into the bedroom to change, heart pounding.  Hawkeye wasn't a code name at all. Or at least, hadn't started like that.  Hawkeye was the stupid pet name Clint had had. Tony was thoroughly horrified; he'd never given much thought to Clint's past, really.  Clint seemed, like Phil, to be a part of the agency. A SHIELD guy. Tony hadn't considered how or where he'd grown up; why would he? But being an omega born in the seventies...

No wonder Clint, fucking straight-laced G-man Clint, had been so overly willing to put his ass on the line for Steve's civil rights campaign.  Clint supported what Steve was doing because he had some experience. How much? No clue.

Tony zipped up the fleece onesie and pulled out his phone.

_ > Hey Clint.  Crazy question but do you have a family? - TS _

Maybe he was still in denial.  Steve's look hadn't left much room for arguing.  Steve seemed convinced the two omega Bartons were related.  But Tony couldn't wrap his head around it. It was too surreal.

Also, remembering how he'd casually bet Steve without thinking after saying he wouldn't made his heart pound.  Was he a bad person? Fuck. What if he had lost to Ron? Tony hadn't remembered the bet with Ron until just now and guilt ate away at him.

Tony quietly puttered around the bedroom, packing their things.  He wanted to get Bennett's card and fucking leave. This place was toxic and he felt dirty for coming here, for making friends with these sick Alphas and learning how to manipulate omegas with their scent glands and betting on people like they were property.  It disgusted him and he wanted to go home to Malibu and take a shower, get the dirt of this awful place off him.

He'd barely finished throwing their crap into the luggage before his phone pinged.  He checked it.

_ > Did Steve say something? - CB _

In the living room, Steve's phone went off seconds later.

_ > Did you tell him about my family, Steve?  I specifically told you not to tell him about my family. - CB _

_ > I haven't told Tony anything. SR _

Steve frowned, where the hell was _this_ coming from?

_ > Why?  Did Phil message you? SR _

_ > No? What's going on?  - CB  
_

_ > I don't know right now but I promise I'll get back to you. And I haven't told Tony anything. I promise. SR _

Steve mulled over the text before he sent it, unsure of what else to say.  Saying they'd talk later was probably the best course of action.  Like Phil had said, he didn't want to reopen old wounds or make any promises.  He didn't want to behave impulsively.

...besides.  He had an auction to attend.


	19. The Price of People

Tony re-emerged from the bedroom after packing, once more dressed in his squirrel onesie and a pair of sunglasses. He'd lingered a little too long, trying to recover from the strange and upsetting interaction with DeSoto.

Steve just wanted to get down there already. He kept remembering Seven nearly crying, curled in on himself on the floor, and he knew that's who they had to try and save. If it came to that, which it probably would. Steve didn't even know his real name. Jesus.

"We should get going," DeSoto piped up, apparently excited.

Steve felt like throwing up a little bit. They moved to leave the suite, and stepped into the lift. The lobby downstairs was teeming. It was clearly a big event. "We should go the main stage," DeSoto said, eyes wide.  He seemed enthusiastic.  Like they were going to watch a game of baseball instead of actual people getting sold.

Steve was too distracted, however, to tell DeSoto off. He spotted he waiter with the floppy hair across the room. He met Steve's gaze briefly, then winked, and carried on serving champagne flutes with the politest of smiles on his face.

Tony eyed the crowd, searching for Mr. Bennett.  He wanted to get a card and get out of here. He didn't see Bennett, but he spotted Malick at the same time Malick spotted him.

Malick's eyes narrowed.  "...what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing," said Tony innocently.

"Take off that ridiculous outfit!"

"But you said I should wear a squirrel--"

" _Take it off, Stark!_ "

Tony shrugged, unzipped the onesie, and pulled it off.  Underneath, he was only wearing a pair of boxers.  The crowd turned and stared. Tony caught a waiter's arm and handed him the squirrel costume.  "Hey, can you take this to coat check for me?"

The waiter stared at him in bafflement.

Malick was turning red with an interesting combination of anger and embarrassment.  Tony crossed his arms casually, as if it were perfectly normal to attend a black-tie event while wearing nothing but underwear, trainers, sunglasses, and a watch.

One of the few people who wasn't gawking (Tony was standing as close he could to Malick, clearly taking some pleasure in making this as awkward as possible) was DeSoto; he scanned the crowd for Ron and perked up immediately when he saw him.  He actually grabbed Steve's hand with excitement, like they were teenage girls or something. "There's Alpha!" he said with delight.

"Stark, so help me God--"

"You told me to, sir.  You told me to take it off, so I did," said Tony with sarcastic innocence.  His mocking tone was disturbingly similar to DeSoto's.

"Everything's a joke to you, isn't it?  Stay the hell away from me!"

"...so my service to you is done?" called Tony as Malick stomped off, with Donner scampering behind him.  Tony felt a lot better after pissing off Malick. He plucked a flute of champagne from a passing tray along with a program.  He flipped it open. The program made sure everything was perfectly legal, at least technically. The auction was for a "night of company" and it noted that the proceeds benefited some private school called Shore's Breath that educated omegas.  It looked like a regular charity auction and if Tony had stumbled in here accidentally he wouldn't had seen anything wrong.

Except that, he noticed, the omegas were only listed by number.  Number Twelve was previously a Miss Teen Illinois. Tony looked up to the stage to try to pick her out.  It was easy. She was gorgeous. The omegas were lined up along the back of the stage, preening each other.  Most looked hopefully nervous. Some looked miserable. Some just looked blank. Tony had the bizarre thought that it was like watching a bunch of kids about to perform in a school play.  Except no, they were getting sold, literally sold. Force-bonded.

Tony grabbed another glass of champagne, feeling sick and wanting the numbness that alcohol promised.

Watching Malick get so flustered he gave up and walked away almost made Steve feel better. _Almost_. He was oddly proud of Tony though, and oddly grateful too. The man had taken a great deal of effort to make Steve feel small and to make fun of them and here Tony was...throwing it back in his face, squirrel costume and all.

"You go, DeSoto.  I'll just--" Steve tried to pull away but the omega had surprisingly strong grip.

And then DeSoto's Alpha was beside them, grinning like a wolf and Steve wanted to punch him. Then he wanted to haul him up by his neck and demand where Charles was and promise him the sickening and slow death he deserved.

Steve blinked, pulling himself together. _Oh dear_. He'd been around these Alphas too long and he was getting very close to punching one of them. And if he wasn't careful then he actually _might_ kill someone by accident.  Aria had previously told him he had a bit of an anger problem and couldn't punch all of his problems away.  She was probably right, though Steve would never admit it.

"I hope he's been good," said DeSoto's Alpha, curling a hand onto DeSoto's shoulder tightly. Steve felt an instant urge to push it off. The man barked out a laugh when he saw Tony in his boxers, like it was funny and not embarrassing at all. _Least he had a sense of humour,_ Steve thought dryly. "Loving the get-up, Stark. Scared of being late?"

DeSoto looked so goddamn helpful, just waiting for Tony's approval. It was grim.

Over his Alpha's shoulder Steve spotted Piper and slipped away to go talk to her. DeSoto's Alpha watched with a frown, as if Steve walking off without permission was unthinkable.

"Hey."  Steve appeared by Piper's side. Eric was in an animated conversation with another Alpha, probably about collars, or something. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Piper nodded and they stepped over to the side. Steve pulled out his phone. "My friend sent me some stuff about your sister," he said quietly. "He thinks he found her...apparently she's a preschool teacher, and living with a beta man now." Piper looked confused. "I don't know how it happened, but if she was sold then...maybe she got out."

"Do you have her address?" Piper asked, voice small. Steve was glad to be giving someone good news today.

"I'll send you everything my friend sent me," Steve said as he forwarded the text on. "I know you were worried about her but it looks like maybe she's okay."

From what Phil found it looked like the Alpha who 'bought' her died. There was no will in place so his mate inherited everything by default. She used the money to go to college and get a teaching qualification. She'd been lucky, Steve guessed...but she'd also been bonded to the man for five years. He had no idea how hard or enjoyable that was for her, and maybe that was for the best.

Piper clutched her phone to her chest when the message came through. "Thank you," she whispered.

Piper's eyes were watering with gratitude, but she didn't get anything else out; Eric turned, realized she'd wandered a little far, and spotted her and Steve.

"Oho!  What are you up to over here?" he said to Steve, like Steve was a child that had wandered off from its mother.  "Where's Tony?" He scanned the crowd. Tony was easy to find. He was getting a lot of attention due to his lack of clothes.  There was apparently no rule stating that you couldn't come in your underpants, because until now, there hadn't needed to be.

Tony was coolly hanging out as if unaware he was partially clothed.  Thank Tesla for sunglasses; Tony wasn't sure he would be able to maintain composure if he couldn't hide behind them.  He wanted to crack up, and he also wanted to haul off and punch Ron. But instead he was engaging in polite, calm conversation.

"DeSoto was very good.  He's a great omega. Absolutely the best," said Tony.  DeSoto beamed, looking hopefully up at Ron. Ron patted his shoulder.

"Isn't he something?  Shame it's so hard to find a good one these days."

An in!

"...yeah, you mentioned your last one was a handful.  Hey, listen, Ron..." Tony paused. He had to make this believable.  "...spending time with DeSoto, having an omega actually make me coffee instead of, you know, whining about the forties... uh... being served, treated right for once... it got me thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Hypothetically, let's say I wanted an omega who was good like DeSoto."

"Buy one tonight," said Ron, gesturing toward the stage.

"...Steve's got jealousy issues.  He'd go crazy if I bought an omega in front of him.  I'm looking for someone who maybe, uh... could provide omega services, discreetly."

"What, like an escort?" said Ron, laughing.  "Tony Heartbreaker Stark's asking me to set him up?  ...you're a riot, Tony, really!" He slapped Tony on the back and Tony felt thoroughly annoyed; he was hoping Ron would introduce him to Bennett, but clearly, that was hoping for too much.  "Oops, your spade wandered off again... looks like Eric's got him!"

"...glad one of us was paying attention," said Tony, forcing a smile.  "I'd better go get him before he gets into trouble, tries voting or something crazy.  ...take care of DeSoto, Ron, he's a sweet guy, seriously."

DeSoto was still smiling; Tony edged away, hating both of them.

Steve, Eric, and Piper were off to the side; Piper was glowing.  Eric was looking through one of the programs and sipping a cocktail.  Steve looked murderous, and Tony didn't blame him.

"...I don't see George Bennett anywhere," he reported.

Eric looked up.  "You mean Gene Bennett?  He just went outside for a smoke.  He'll be back."

"You know him?"

"Sure, he's a regular customer.  He works with omegas and buys a lot of cheap temporary collars.  Nice fellow."

Tony's teeth gritted.  He wondered if Eric knew what Gene did.  "I'd like to meet him. Ron told me all sorts of nice things."  It was hard to say it without sounding sarcastic, but Tony managed, and Eric nodded.  

"Sure, I'll introduce you two when he comes back in. They're going to start the auction soon-- see that gal up there?  That's Gail, she runs the auction every year." Gail was an Alpha. Of course. Tony considered how bad for him image it would be if he slapped a skinny sixty-year-old woman.  He loathed Gail and, based on her frequent disapproving frowns in Tony's direction, she loathed him right back. She was wearing a lovely dress and scarf and Tony was certain she was a snob of the worst type.

Tony may have been rich and spoiled and out of touch, but he knew he wasn't a snob.  Except sometimes when he was being ironic.

Steve didn't really know why but he _knew_ Gene was soon as he saw him. He was easily one of the youngest men in the room (definitely over thirty-five, though; Tony's age) and he was undoubtedly handsome. He had dark hair, slicked back and a light splattering of stubble lining a sharp jawline. His eyes were dark, cheek bones high and his smile was far too sweet for a man who did what he did. When a waitress gave him a glass of champagne she giggled at whatever he said to her before walking away. Steve looked down at Gene's wristband: unbonded. Made sense.

"Hey! Gene, over here!" Eric waved him over. Gene smiled so goddamn charmingly it was unnerving. He clapped a hand on Eric's shoulder and squeezed and for a brief second it almost looked like the older alpha was uncomfortable.

"Eric," he breathed, voice soft like velvet. "Good to see you. And Piper too, looking wonderful as always."

He took her hand and kissed the back of it. Steve felt an involuntary shudder run down his spine. Gene was probably no more dominant than Tony was, but there was something about him that just set Steve on edge. Piper blushed as Gene released her hand, her gaze fixed on the floor. All the earlier happiness had been sucked out of her and suddenly she was all meek and polite again.

"Ah, Mr. Stark! It's a pleasure to meet you; I do admire what you do," Gene told him and Steve could have so easily believed him. Gene offered a hand out to Tony. Steve could smell expensive cigarettes on him when the man leaned in closer.

"And what is it that you do, exactly?" Steve asked, catching Bennett a little off guard. The Alpha looked up at him, polite enough to not look surprised at Steve talking to him.

"Oh, I'm a people person. I work in people. You know how it goes."

Steve's eyes glinted something furious. He said nothing.

"Are any of you looking to purchase today?" Gene asked curiously.

"Oh no. Pipes is all I need," Eric curled an arm around her. She half-smiled; it didn't quite meet her eyes. Steve wondered if he'd keep that attitude up if Piper didn't give him a baby, or an Alpha. Or maybe he'd get mad if she tried to see her sister...Steve didn't think Eric had it in him. Eric didn't seem like _bad_ person, just ignorant. He wasn't like Malick or Mike; there was no _nastiness_ about him.

"Of course," Gene nodded, dashing smile and all. And then Piper giggled, as if on cue, and kissed Eric's cheek.

Tony looked at Gene.  Gene seemed unfazed by Tony's unusual outfit.  When Gene offered his hand, Tony shook it, and his handshake was perfectly firm but not overly aggressive.

This was a guy Tony liked, instantly.  He was likable. Tony hated that about him.

"How about you, Gene?  You buyin'?" asked Tony.

"Oh, no, no, I'm just here to mingle.  You, Stark?"

"Just Tony.  No, I'm all set with Steve.  ...but you're not bonded," said Tony, nodding toward his wristband.

"Ah, well, we can't all meet Steves and Pipers now, can we?" said Gene with a winning smile.

Tony forced a smile back.  Gene reminded him slightly of Justin, the way he oozed charm, the way he acted so smooth.  The difference between him and Justin was that Justin _forced_ it.  It was unnatural and obnoxious on him.  But it fit Gene perfectly. Gene had a faintest hint of a very posh south accent and Tony would not have been surprised if he was from Carolina "old money," or the son of a Texas oil baron.

"Steve, Piper, go get us some drinks, will you?" demanded Tony.  He gave Steve an apologetic look but then realized Steve may not be able to see it behind his sunglasses.

 _Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry_ , he thought, even though he knew the bond didn't make them psychic.  But he needed Steve to get the hell away so he could ask Gene about his "services."  Gene was too cool to talk about them in front of Captain America, especially after Steve's outburst the previous day.

He gave Steve's ass a slap for good measure.

Eric and Gene were both smiling.  "Looks like someone's feeling a bit more dominant.  Collaring him did the trick, didn't it?" said Eric.

"Worked like a charm," said Tony, grabbing another drink.  If he didn't keep drinking, keep himself numb, his dander would be up in a second.  "Actually, I had a few chats with Maggie Frond, like you suggested, and she really helped open my eyes."

"Have to be honest with you, I'd never expect _that_ to do such a turn-around," said Gene, nodding his head over toward Steve.

Tony saw a chance and he took it.  He'd always been about taking chances.

"They don't always turn around, though, do they?" said Tony, lowering his voice along with his sunglasses.  "...you know, Gene, I admire your work, too."

Gene got a slow smile and cocked an eyebrow at Tony.  "Oh?"

"I like people who work with people.  If you get my drift."

"I don't think I do, Mr. Stark."

Fuck.

"Well, call me if that ever changes," said Tony, pulling out a business card and tucking it into Gene's front pocket.

"I'll do that."

"...wait, where did you get the business card from?" asked Eric, baffled as to where anyone could store anything while wearing nothing but a pair of a boxers.  Gene also looked momentarily confused, but neither of them got an answer, because the lights dimmed and everyone began clapping politely.

"Hello, everyone, welcome, welcome to the fourteenth annual Omega Auction for Charity..."  More clapping.

Tony hadn't gotten the business card.  Fuck. He hadn't gotten a damn thing from Gene.  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Gail was talking and Tony felt like he was in a weird nightmare.  Maybe it was just the alcohol, but being in his underwear in a dark room surrounded by people more dominant than him and feeling helpless felt a _lot_ like a nightmare.

Gene had already begun drifting off.  Time to switch tactics.

"Gene seems really cool.  Surprised he's not bonded," said Tony.

Eric shrugged.  "It's not for everyone.  Maybe he's waiting to meet the right--"

"I know a girl in Stark Industries HR who'd be perfect for him," said Tony.  "She's an eight, maybe a nine. Drop-dead gorgeous. He works with people too, right?  I say we hook 'em up."

Eric laughed.  "I doubt a guy like that needs you help, Tony."

"Everyone needs my help.  I'm amazing. Do you have a spare business card?  Seriously, that guy's going places."

"Actually, I might, lemme check..."  Eric began rooting through his pockets.  Onstage, Gail was giving a lengthy intro.  Tony pretended to seem interested because he didn't want to seem desperate.  Yet behind his sunglasses, he was watching anxiously. He didn't feel like Eric was checking too hard, frankly.  Eric had a stack of cards (of course he did, damned collar-maker and all).

Piper was watching Tony with interest.  "Daddy, let me," she said suddenly. She smiled sweetly.  "You watch the auction; I can find it for Mr. Stark, I don't mind."

"Thanks, Pip, you're the best," said Eric, forking over the stack.  Piper turned her attention to flipping through the cards and a moment later-- yes, yes, _yes_!-- she was handing Tony a black card printed on heavy paper stock.

"Oh, great, thank--" began Tony, but stopped.  The name on the card was for Madeline Turner, not Gene Bennett.  "--wait, you gave me the wrong--"

"--you're welcome," said Piper, a bit loudly, and shot Tony a look of warning.  Tony blinked. Piper was clearly more clever than she let on. The card meant something.  Tony just didn't know what yet.

"Wait, so do you have pockets in your boxers, or what?" demanded Eric, turning.

Tony opened his mouth but didn't get a chance to respond.

"--and, without further ado, here's lot Number One!"  The room applauded and a young boy stepped forward with a nervous smile.  He scanned the crowd and his gaze fell on Steve. "Lot Number One," said Gail, "comes from Washington State, and graduated this year head of his class at--"

"Excuse me?" said Number One.  Number One was the one whose father collected Captain America Memorabilia.  Steve had not gotten his name. Not gotten any of their names, really.

Everyone frozen in confusion as he leaned over to speak into Gail's microphone.  Gail looked surprised, too.

"I'm-- I'm sorry.  I don't want to do this anymore," said Number One, sounding embarrassed.  He let out an awkward little cough, then edged off the stage gracelessly. The people in the crowd parted for him like the Red Sea for Moses; it was like he was suddenly toxic.  The people in the room mostly looked stricken, like he had just had a violent outburst. Some looked concerned, like he might be mentally ill or something.

Suddenly Number Eighteen stepped out of line and hopped off the stage, too.  She was smiling but it was the nervous kind of panicked smile people get when they're about to cry.

Numbers Nine and Twelve, the ex-Miss Teen Illinois, stepped out of line; Twelve grabbed Seven's hand, and virtually yanked him off the stage with her.  Seven was clearly struggling not to cry; Number Twelve hauled him after her with a sort of grim determination. Number Nine, on his other side, took his other hand.

The five of them silently walked through the crowd and out the door.

Gail recovered from the shock and leaned into the microphone with a smile.  "Well, ladies and gentlemen, good news! We weeded out the bad ones for you already, so all the rest up here are _guaranteed,_ or your money back!"

Polite, awkward laughter broke out.

"It's his doing!" shouted someone suddenly, and a moment later, a man was pointing to Donner.

"Paul, that's Donner."

"Shit, I meant... there!  Him! Steve Rogers!" Paul turned and pointed to Steve.

All eyes turned, and they were no longer shocked and concerned, but angry.  Furious. _Enraged._ There was a murmur through the crowd.

"All weekend he'd been going around poisoning their fragile little minds with his big ideas because his Alpha is an out-of-control, drunken maniac!"

Eyes turned to Tony.  He was frozen, mid-sip through a cocktail, and still in his sunglasses and underwear.  "...admittedly this looks bad," he said, glancing down at himself.

"I say we go back out there, bring those spades back in before they ruin their lives, and kick Steve Rogers out!" shouted Paul.

More heavy murmuring.  Tony knew when things were going south; mob mentality was going to take over at any moment and it was going to get crusty.  He edged back, grabbing Steve's elbow. "Time to go," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

 _God, please don't make a speech..._ he thought, certain that Steve was probably already on the second draft in his head.

Five.  Only five had left, the other thirteen still on the stage.  Some looked longing or envious, clearly wanting to go but lacking the courage.  Yet some had the same looks of anger and disgust as the Alphas in the room. Some were glaring at them just as harshly, and clearly agreed that Steve was dangerous, his ideas radical and crazy.

 _Well_ , Steve thought, _this is awkward_.

He considered making a speech.

A lot of people were staring at them. Like a lot. Steve should have probably thought about this. They'd have to get the hotel to mail them their clothes or something...because there was no way they were going to be able to leave this place like normal people. And Steve was about to point out that Gideon invited them so really, they weren't to blame here, but then--

Every single omega waiter and waitress (and there was a lot of them) moved to set down their trays. Most of them just put them down on the floor. They untied their aprons, undid the 'uniform' collars they were wearing, and dropped them too. It was all very calm and very well coordinated. And then they started walking out behind the five auctionees. And suddenly it wasn't five omegas walking out; it was about thirty.

Then another eight jumped down from the stage

"What is happening?! Security, stop them!"

Security were all betas. Malick turned around to yell at one who had emerged from a door way. "Well, do something!"

"We, er, can't stop them walking out the door, sir," the man explained awkwardly. "They're people. They're allowed to walk where they want."

The Alphas in the crowd looked horrified, but they were apparently letting it happen, because their anger was now forced on Steve and Tony. Gene was looking at Steve like he was only just seeing him for the first time. The auction was no longer going on in the background. The remaining seven omegas were bunched together.

Steve saw Three across the room amongst them. She was shaking. But he couldn't go talk to them; they wouldn't let him through the crowd, no way--

Then Donner walked over and knelt down beside them. It took Malick a second to notice.

"Donner! Donner, get back over here!"

"I'm just seeing if they're okay."

"Donner. I said come over here now."

" _Donner_!"

Donner turned over his shoulder to look Gideon right in the eye, and the Alpha looked affronted. "No."

Gideon's expression twisted in confusion, like he didn't know how to comprehend the two-letter word.

"He's turning own omegas against us!"

And the crowd was at it again.

"Tony." Steve reached for his Alpha's hand. "We should go..."

Then he stopped. He saw Donner straightening up and the seven other kids began to walk after the others. And Steve wanted to know what he _said_ to them because they certainly weren't moving before.

Then Steve's heart sank when he saw one guy left on stage. Number Nineteen.

He hadn't saved them all.

Number Nineteen reached up for the microphone and smiled politely. Gail awkwardly handed it over, like she truly didn't know what to do anymore.

"I'd just like to say one thing..." His voice was scratchy against the mic. "We are people and we are priceless!"

Then he dropped the mic and ran after his friends.

Steve burst into laughter.

"...run.  Run, run, run!" said Tony, grabbing Steve's hand.

Steve had a dopey look of pride on his face and was clearly basking in breaking up the conference, but Tony was all too aware of the lynch mob that was rapidly forming.  Losing some of the auctionees was bad, and losing the wait staff was bad, too. But now, with Donner acting out...

Tony was yanking Steve toward the door, intent on getting out before things got violent.  And they really seemed ready to get violent. The Alphas in the room were pissed off, they smelt of aggression, reeked of self-righteous dominance, and most of them had been drinking.

Steve was a living weapon, sure.  Steve could easily protect them. But Tony didn't want anyone throwing any punches.  He didn't think he could handle his omega protecting him. He wished he had a suit. Even the Mark III.

Bizarrely, he thought of the squirrel suit.  It was in coat check. He wasn't wearing pants, but there was nothing they could do about that.

"I wish I could say this was the first time I got chased out of a five-star hotel in my underwear, but it's not," said Tony as he hurried out into the lobby.  Someone grabbed at him on the way out and Tony twisted away from it. His adrenaline was up and so were his hackles.

He took an elevator to the main lobby, shouldering rudely past a couple blocking his path ("Hey!").  The door to the main lobby was automatic and Tony nearly crashed into it; he slipped out. It was cold outside but who cared.  The important thing was to get away from the hotel, because there were at least a half-dozen enraged people chasing them and while Tony wasn't actually worried about getting hurt, he was worried about what would happen if he let Steve throw a punch.  His pride would be wounded and Steve could really hurt someone and it would be bad for their image and probably end in a lengthy lawsuit. Yeah, better to just leave. Steve had gotten what he wanted; without staff, the conference was going to come to a grinding halt.

Steve took his collar off in the elevator and didn't know where to put it. But it felt good his neck to finally _breathe_ again. He was shaking with excitement too. They'd done it! Oh Malick was so in for it, and Steve would be glad about it too...if he wasn't terribly worried for Donner. He seemed so sweet...he deserved better.

Tony's sense of relief was remarkably short-lived.  He ran out of the hotel, across the loading area, past the fountain in front... and right into another protest.

Oh, right.  Status Alliance.

"It's Tony Stark!" yelled someone.

"He made Steve Rogers wear a collar!"

"Get him!"

Tony turned but a dozen hands grabbed him and sucked him into the crowd.   He didn't had time to even make a peep of explanation. A moment later, the same mob mentality that Tony had been scared of indoors was being turned on him outdoors, and in the blink of an eye, he was getting yelled at, slapping, punched, having his hair and boxers torn at, getting things thrown at him and getting the occasional whack from a sign with a cheerful slogan like "Only weak Alphas oppress omegas!"

 _Pepper was right.  I need a detail,_ thought Tony hazily as someone kicked him in the ribs.  He'd fought against two guys in fucking mech suits and yet, here he was, getting turned into a pulp by a punch of pissy twenty-something omegas holding protest signs.  Funny, how life sometimes turned out.

They were barely outside for two minutes when Tony was gone and Steve realised with alarm that the crowd had taken him. It was omegas and betas with a splattering of Alphas amongst them. "Tony!" he yelled.  "Tony?!"  Someone tried to hand Steve a sign; he shoved them away, pushing into the crowd to find his mate.  He found him on the ground, getting kicked by at least five or six protesters.  "Let him go! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Steve's 'captain' voice really was quite intimidating. The young crowd ignored him aside from a few at the edges. They turned to face Steve, instead of hollering abuse at Tony.

"He collared you!"

"I collared _myself_ to  get in that goddamn place and if you'd been paying attention you'd noticed that Tony collared himself too! Now goddamn let go before I have go in there myself," Steve warned them. He'd thought with enough Alphas already; he didn't want to start fighting with omegas too. "You hit him and yell at him after he spent all weekend dealing with crap from statusist bastards and supporting me? Then you're bad as the rest of them! Now let him _go_."

The omegas and betas looked sheepish all of a sudden. A dark-haired man reached out a hand for Tony to help him up. "Sorry," he said awkwardly. "We thought--"

But they trailed off when the auctionees and waiting staff appeared outside. There was almost forty of them in total and it was quite an impressive sight. They were almost all omegas, a few of the waiters being betas as well. They looked a little overwhelmed at the crowd ahead but the crowd themselves went ecstatic. They were cheering, shaking their signs in the air. Tony and Steve were suddenly old news.

"Steve! Tony!"

Steve turned and saw Happy out on the drive way behind the smaller fountains, their car next to him. He reached for Tony's hand. "Come on. Let's go. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"Psh, no, I'm Iron Man," said Tony dizzily, letting Happy grab him.  His hair was a mess, there was dirt all over his face, he'd definitely taken at least one punch to the eye, and his boxers were torn and threatening to come off.

"Okay, boss," said Happy mollifyingly, positioning himself so Tony could lean on him.

"Hey, Steve... congrats," said Tony weakly.

"Where did your pants go?" asked Happy.

"Gideon Malick made me take off my squirrel-- y'know what, it's a long story.  Let's just get the hell out of here," said Tony. He reached down to his sock and handed Steve a business card before he could forget.  "I got this. It's not Gene's, it's someone else, but Piper really seemed to want me to have it. ...Happy, how quickly can Charlie get the jet out?  I wanna go home."

"We can probably get you back to Malibu by sunrise," said Happy.  "Just take it easy, okay?"

Tony didn't need telling twice.  He let Happy escort him to the car and crawled into the backseat to lie down.  He'd long since lost his sunglasses; he looked over at Steve's slightly blurry figure.  "...hey. Congrats, Cap."

"You said that already," said Happy gently.

"Oh.  Well, only 'cause I'm so proud of Steve," said Tony, rubbing his head.  He was realizing he might have a slight concussion from when he'd been dragged down into the crowd; his head had smacked the pavement.  Tony took some comfort in knowing he had IQ points to spare. Still, he just wanted to rest.

"You took your collar off," observed Tony, looking at Steve with a hint of disappointment.

"Status Alliance would probably have tarred and feathered you if Steve showed up in a collar," pointed out Happy.  "They're not like the Horseshoe Society... they're kinda radical."

"I wasn't wearing the collar for fun, Tony," Steve pointed out gently as they got into the back seat of the car. Happy got into the front. The crowd were surrounding the auctionees now. Steve could see the media approaching from down the drive. Shit was about to hit the fan and they didn't want to anywhere near it. They'd made their point, done their part...

"Ty and Banksy said this protest wasn't actually supported by SA."

"Well, they're flyin' the flag."

Tony shrugged and closed his eyes again, reaching a hand out for Steve.  He felt tired, tired beyond all reason. But it was a good, satisfied kind of tired.  They'd done what they needed to do and now they could go home.

"Love you, 'mega," said Tony, giving Steve's hand a squeeze.

Steve wrapped an arm around Tony, his free hand still holding onto the other's. "I love you too," he told him softly and kissed his forehead. "Hey, you think we should maybe get a medic to meet us at the airport? Just to make sure he's okay."

"I'll them know," Happy said, pulling out his phone to quickly send off a text (to presumably Pepper). Steve imagined her and Aria would be catching the plane back with them. Steve couldn't _wait_ to get home. Far too much had happened since they'd left it and Steve honestly wanted to forget most of it.

The media cameras flashed as their car passed but with tinted windows they would get nothing.

"Hey, it's like forty minutes to the airport from here. Maybe try and grab a rest?" Happy suggestively tentatively.

"Good, good idea..." Steve hummed, but he was already way ahead of him as he leaned his forehead against the car window and let his eyes slowly slip shut.

Tony woke up in a daze.  The car was parked by an airport hangar and they were sitting on the tarmac.  It was night and there were lights on, blues and yellows, and whites, and reds, lighting up the taxiways.  It was pretty.

Tony opened the door of the SUV and tumbled out.

"Whoa, careful!" said Happy, grabbing him.  A couple of paramedics approached but Tony waved them away grouchily.

"What is this, go away, leave me alone, I'm fine!" snapped Tony.  "Happy! Pants!"

"Here."  Happy forked over a pair of jeans; Tony held on to his shoulder for support while he tugged them on.  The paramedics looked alarmed; Tony was a mess and the bruises were starting to bloom. Undoubtedly, he looked worse than he was, because of the dirt on his face and his hair being so wild.

Tony abhorred doctors of all types and did everything in his power to stay away from them.  He didn't like being examined. Since his return from Afghanistan, he hadn't seen a single one, unless you counted the dentist.  He didn't want them prodding the arc reactor.

"...Tony!"

Tony looked up; Pepper was waving.  His face broke into a grin. "Pepper!  Didja see--"

"--the news?  Yes, everyone's talking about it.  Is Steve okay?"

"We're both beat," said Tony.  He couldn't wait to go home, work on the suit... and get JARVIS to start digging up what he could on Gene Bennett and Margaret Turner.

"I got a call from Ty.  He wanted to extend his congratulations.  Your phones are back at the hotel, I assume?"

"Everything is," said Tony.  "We kinda had to leave in a hurry."

"Also, Natasha called Aria.  She wants to talk to Steve and says it's critical, something about Clint."

Tony's stomach turned.  He'd forgotten about that.  "Yeah, okay," said Tony, scanning the skies for his plane.  "He can call her from the plane, I guess..." He couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance that Clint and Natasha were talking to Steve and not him.  Maybe it was that omega solidarity thing. Or maybe it was because Tony was kind of a jerk to Clint.

"Just let them check you don't have concussion," Steve insisted, Tony's reluctance a palpable pang in his own chest. One of the paramedics stared at Steve with wide eyes as Steve rubbed a hand over his face. He felt groggy and slow from sleep and honestly didn't feel like getting on a plane at all.  He probably looked like crap.

One of the paramedics stepped forward with a flashlight to shine in Tony's eyes. "Does it hurt to breathe?" he asked him.

"You might want to hear what the news is saying," Pepper said with a subtle sort of smile. She had a tablet in one hand, the screen teeming with headlines. "They know what you did in there; there's been a very positive response."

"They walked out. I really don't wanna take any credit," Steve said. Pepper smiled again.

"They wouldn't have done it without you there though," she insisted. "Is he good to go?"

"His ribs are damaged. We recommend bed rest. And if any signs of concussion persist you have to take him to the ER," the paramedic said. "He shouldn't really be flying..."

"We need to go home," Steve said and reached for Tony's hand. "Come on. I'll keep an eye on you."

"I don't have a concussion and I don't need bedrest!" grumbled Tony.  "Gimme a math problem. C'mon. Pepper--"

"Tony, please."

"Pepper, gimme a math problem."

Pepper sighed.  "Seventy-two times eight hundred and five."

"Too easy."

"Tony--"

"It's 57,960, but come on, that's like a kid's problem."

"Tony, please."

One of the paramedics had pulled out his phone to check Tony's answer on a calculator.

Tony ignored them completely and walked onto the plane despite some weak protests.  He flopped down into a leather chair with a groan of pain. Protesters, in his experience, always wore combat boots for some reason, and those hurt like a bitch to be kicked by.

Although, for once, Tony felt like the kicking had been worth it.

They'd saved nearly twenty kids.  It wasn't every omega in the world. 

But it was a start.  It was a good start.


	20. Unfinished Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I just looked over the massive Word Doc kept by me and my writing partner today. Looks like we're roughly 3 chapters away from Part 4, which covers: 
> 
> 1) Project 84 
> 
> 2) Clint's brother
> 
> 3) What ever happened to Donner.
> 
> Reminder that you have probably less than a month to subject naming ideas for parts 1-4 to win goodies. Thanks to all of our fans for staying with us through this behemoth of a story. We know it's long but we hope we make it worth every second of your time!
> 
> \- Tony

Aria was already aboard the plane, waiting for them, when Steve and Tony came on, and she was grinning ear-to-ear.  Even Tony's partially clothed and disheveled state didn't make her grin waver.  "Well, look what the cat dragged in. _...someone's_ generating a lot of headlines!"

"People love me," agreed Tony.

Aria rolled her eyes.  "I was talking to Steve."

"You love me.  Admit it."

Aria ignored him and offered a cell phone to Steve.  "Clint Barton's been calling me about every five minutes.  He wants to speak with you in private. Emphasized that he doesn't want Tony to have anything to do with the call."

"He loves me.  Admit it."

Aria continued to ignore Tony.  On her phone, there were six calls from Clint already.  Clearly, he'd been spooked by Tony's text about his having a family and wanted to figure out what was going on from Steve.

Aria's smile was contagious and Steve couldn't help but smile back.

"It's a positive response?" he checked tentatively and Aria gave him a look.

"You just saved like twenty kids. Yes Steve, it's a positive response."

"I didn't--"

"Stop being modest and just call Clint back," Aria told him and handed him with phone. Steve sighed with a tired smile. He leaned over to kiss Tony's forward and then went into the bedroom cabin at the back to call him back.

Clint picked up instantly. "Steve, what the hell?"

"I didn't tell him. He has no idea. This isn't about what you think," Steve assured him calmly. "I promise, Clint--"

"What is it about, then?"

Steve went to the bedside and sat down heavily. He ran a hand over his face. "Your brother."

The line went quiet for several long seconds.

"...what _about_ my brother?" asked Clint, still sounding suspicious.  But there was a new wariness, a tired, resigned note to his voice.

On the other line, Clint was trying to remember if he had ever mentioned having a brother to Steve.  He was pretty sure he had. It wasn't a secret, either. It was in his file. He had one sibling, estranged, whereabouts unknown.  That was that. Not uncommon for a SHIELD agent, frankly. Natasha's file, for example, listed both parents as unknown and her birthday as unknown as well.  (They assigned her the first of January for legal purposes.)

In the background, Steve heard Clint holler at someone to cover him and that he was taking a break.

"I don't know if I should tell you this. I don't want to open old wounds, Clint; it could be nothing..." Steve knew Phil said not to mention it. But Clint deserved an explanation, and in his position Steve thought he would want to know.

"Just tell me, Steve," he said, sounding tired.

"I met this omega. His Alpha used to have an omega before him; he was 'badly' behaved because he was bought and tried to escape. One day he did escape, maybe, or he went to one of those auctions... he always said he wanted to find his brother. And he has your brother's name, Charles Bernard Barton. I thought you'd wanna know."

Clint said nothing.

"The Alpha was kind of an asshole, I'm sorry to say..."

Clint remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he said, "Barney was the only family I had left.  My parents got killed when I was a kid. Car accident. We went in an orphanage, all-omega.  Ran away. He got traded. But that was twenty-two years ago, Steve. Barney would be in his forties now, and... after twenty-two years... if he didn't find me and I didn't find him..."  Clint let it hang.

There was a shaky intake of breath on the other line, then Clint said, with a sort of forced optimism, "That's how come I learned lip-reading.  Without Barney I couldn't sign anymore. He was the only one who understood me.  After they took him away no one could talk to me, and I couldn't talk to anyone else, either.  Being mute for three years, it's a hell of a thing, Steve. ...anyway, I... I tried to find him, but even with SHIELD... we weren't ever able to track him down.  I know he changed hands a few times but the trail run cold. And if there's one thing you oughta know about Barney, it's that he was a fighter, like you. He'd never give up. If he was alive, he would have come and found me." Clint voice cracked.  "...he was just like you, Steve. He said to me-- he said, _make everything something to hit with, and hit them until they stop_.  He never stopped fighting.  When they took him, both of us fought.  We fought like hell. They wouldn't take me because I--"

Clint broke off but he didn't need to tell Steve why because it was obvious.

Before SHIELD, before the era of implants and prostheses, Clint was damaged goods.  Clint was functionally disabled and would have made a lousy omega; he couldn't hear commands issued, and therefore couldn't follow them.  His brother had been the desirable one.

Exactly who was trading them was unclear; Clint's history had the sort of shadiness that Natasha's did, and it was clear he generally preferred to keep it that way.

"--that was the last time I saw him.  Fighting, yelling... twenty-two years ago.  It's been too long. He's dead. I know he's dead."  Clint voice was bitter but had gotten back its steadiness.  "...thanks for telling me, though, Steve."

Steve listened quietly, feeling considerably less giddy from their conference exit after hearing Clint's story. "I won't look for him. That's your call to make," he murmured.

"Thanks Steve. Sorry I freaked out about Tony.  I..."

"It's okay. I get it.  But," Steve sighed, "I know Tony is really great at acting like he doesn't give a shit but he does. It's your choice whether he knows about your family or not but...you know, if you leave it for years, he will be pretty hurt over it. He'll pretend he isn't, but he will be."

Clint sighed. "He just... doesn't have a great track record with this kind of stuff Steve."

"I know. I know, I just-- I just wanted to say it," Steve breathed. "Just wanted you to... think about it. Maybe. If you want to."

"Yeah, I got it Steve." He could hear a half-smile in Clint's voice. "You really cooked up a storm at his conference, huh?"

"I guess so," Steve hummed. "Now I'm just really tired..."

"Look. I better go, you're tired and we're just about to have dinner. But thanks for letting me know about my brother Steve, really."

"Do you... do you want the Alpha's name?" Steve asked quietly. Clint paused.

"I'll think about it."

Then he hung up.

Steve was honestly so tired he just dropped down onto the sheets. He could catch up with the news once they'd landed. Right now he was in bed and he couldn't bear the thought of tearing himself out of it.

In the main cabin, Tony, like Steve, was overwhelmed with exhausted.  He didn't even finish his drink.  Tony passed out in the chair he was in and woke up to a slightly bumpy landing.

He squinted out the window of the jet.  It was early morning and it looked clear and warm.  He checked his watch. Five minutes to eight.

He climbed out of the chair, groaning and stretching his limbs.  He glanced over; Pepper and Aria were sitting side-by-side. Aria was younger and dressed much more casually than Pepper; Pepper was all business, hair tied back.  But clothing and age aside, they looked identical, their faces on their tablets, clicking away, handling the deluge of press. Both looked tired. Tony wasn't sure what Aria was going to do but he bet Pepper was going to go straight into the office.  Already pale, the bags under her eyes were noticeable.

"Pep, take a personal day, will you?" said Tony, stretching his right arm behind his back.  It made a pop like knuckles cracking and Pepper winced.

"I wish you wouldn't do that to your shoulder."

"What, this?"  Tony cracked it again.

Pepper sighed.

Tony grinned cheekily.  He could feel the bruising around his eye, tender as it was.  But he'd definitely had worse.

He made his way into the cabin in the back to rouse Steve.  Steve had fallen asleep with all his clothes on, Aria's phone clutched in his hand.

Tony gently climbed in next to him and lay down beside him, reaching out to pet his hair.

"Steve... wake up.  We're back in California."  Tony would have liked to tear his clothes off and wake him with sex, but Steve's PTSD meant doing those sorts of things were discouraged.  Tony and Steve tended to wake each other up gently.

Steve blinked away slowly. He'd been so deeply asleep that the landing hadn't even woke him. Huh. So much for good survival instincts. Steve smiled at the feeling of Tony's hand in his hair and looked up at him sleepily. "Hey," he murmured and reached hand up, his thumb swiping close to the chafed, swollen red skin around Tony's eyes. Yes, those omegas in the crowd had been products of their situation but that most certainly did not excuse attacking Tony.

"I can't wait to be home and in bed," Steve murmured. And he felt like, oddly enough... even with Bucky, and the conference, they were going back _better_ than before. Steve smelt right now. His neck looked right. Bucky was in cryo...and they'd suitably screwed up the Alpha conference. They'd done good, for other people and themselves.  The things in life that had been nagging at them were getting resolved, slowly by surely.

He leaned forward to kiss Tony firmly but briefly then sat up. "Come on. Let's get going; I bet the others are desperate to get off of this plane, too.  And we really need to book Aria and Pepper that holiday...if we pay for it, then they'll _have_ to take it."

"Good idea... Pepper won't abide losing a bunch of money," said Tony.  He opened the door for Steve and held it. He wasn't merely being polite; Tony never was, if he could help it.

He wanted to get a look at Steve's neck.

When Steve walked past him, he stood up on his toes to eyeball it.

The mark on Steve's neck had healed over into two distinctive, shiny pink scars that looked, to Tony's untrained eye, quite healthy.  One of the ovals was familiar, his own bonding mark, the grooves inviting him to sink his teeth in. The other slightly overlapping mark was Bucky's.  Yet... his was there. Unmistakably, it was there again, like it had never been screwed up.

Tony wondered if it was normal to have two marks like that.  He'd never seen it before on anyone else, but to be fair, Tony didn't eyeball omegas' necks very often.  It was considered rude, like ogling a woman's cleavage while she was wearing a low-cut blouse.  Tony had always ogled cleavages and asses, not necks.  He'd always been drawn to beta women and had never even considered dating a male omega.  (He'd been with female omegas but only ones who were on heavy suppressants.)

On the tarmac, there was a driver from Stark Industries waiting for them in a company car, and a huge smattering of people with cameras, microphones, and notepads, clamoring for a story.  Tony made a mental note to say thanks to Happy for the jeans. Before they disembarked, Pepper offered him a pair of sunglasses, which he took gratefully. They weren't prescription but Tony cared more about hiding behind them than the faint blurriness he was experiencing.

Happy helped them shoulder through the crowd of reporters to the car.

"...whew," said Tony weakly.  He reached over and brushed a hand over the back of Steve's neck.  "...let's not accept any more tickets from Malick anytime soon, okay?  ...d'you think Donner is okay?"

"That depends on whether Malick actually loves him, or not. If he loves him, he'll forgive him. If he doesn't see him as a person..." Steve trailed off. The thought of Donner at one of those auctions sickened him. But he'd told Donner to call him if he ever wanted to leave Gideon. If things got that serious Steve sincerely hoped he would call.  Or maybe Donner had family and he'd just leave Malick and go to them.  He hoped, whatever Donner chose, it was _his_ choice.

The touch at his neck felt natural now. It didn't repulse Steve like before. Before it had just made him feel cripplingly guilty and _wrong_ but now...now Tony touching his neck felt nice again.

Steve leaned into Tony's touch and sighed as the driver took them away from the media and the flashing cameras. He smiled in relief and let his eyes slip shut. He didn't think he would sleep again just now but he was enjoying the peace and quiet. Happy got into another car with Pepper and Aria behind them. It was so early in the morning, and considering the night they'd had, they should all really be going to bed.

"Can we just do nothing all day?" Steve mumbled.

Tony leaned it to nuzzled Steve's throat.  "There's at least one thing I wanna do today," he purred.  Suddenly he paused. "I mean _person._ Omegas are _people_."  He shot Steve a teasing look.

For Tony, sex was as much about stress release as it was about actual pleasure.  Steve had figured it out pretty quickly after moving in; if Tony had a hard day in the shop, if his codes weren't working right or he was having trouble building a suit or working on one of the cars, he'd often get grouchy, then quickly redirect his energy into rough sex.  It worked out well for them because Steve, being Steve, could take it. And actually seemed to like it. They happily broke furniture and countertops and knocked over orchids and it was fantastic.

When he laid eyes on his home, though, the modern white mansion on the cliffside, he had a sudden urge to go back down to the shop and tinker.  He'd been away from Iron Man for so long, letting Steve drag them to this and that omega rights thing... and he still hadn't gotten the Mark VII up and working.  Not in any practical way, anyway.

"You go do nothing upstairs... I just wanna go downstairs for a bit and check on 4UMM-E," said Tony as they drove up the long drive to the circular front of the house.  "Oh! And we should call Margaret Turner, find out what her deal is!" He realized, with small pang of disappointment, that Piper hadn't joined the walk-out. Piper didn't seem happy and she didn't seem like she'd chosen Eric.  On the other hand, Eric didn't seem like as big a jerk as the rest of them.

"We should but...maybe not at half eight in the morning," Steve said. They also didn't have their phones or any of the stuff from their hotel room. Aria had assured them she was getting it sent over and it should be with them by late afternoon. The Alphas might have raided their suite but...there was nothing _secret_ in there.

Steve's sketchbook had a few drawings of Tony in it, that was all. Tony's collar was still up there along with their clothes. Their phones were locked with Stark-level security. There was no way they were getting into either of them.

"Let's...let's take the rest of the day off changing the world and get started on stuff tomorrow," Steve said with a half-yawn. He thanked the driver as they got out of the car and then they headed into their home. Steve practically felt a weight slide off his shoulders once he stepped inside. He grabbed Tony's hand gently and kissed his cheek. "Don't tinker for too long, Mr-recommended-bedrest," he told him good-naturedly and then headed upstairs.

Tony rolled his eyes at the Mr. Recommended-Bedrest jab... sometimes, Steve was as bad as Pepper.

Steve had been in jeans way too long and practically sighed in relief when he stripped them off. He toed off his shoes and fell into bed, still in boxers, tee and socks. He'd missed their bed. It still smelt of them.

He managed to drift off to sleep again. Steve was sleeping an awful lot recently; at least, it was a lot for _him_ . Maybe it wall all the emotional rushes he'd been through the past weeks, or maybe it was just all the travelling...one thing was for sure, he needed to get back into an exercise routine of some sort (because that six pack did _occasionally_ need maintaining). But Steve didn't see much point in sparring anymore if he wasn't going to be a soldier; he'd have to think of something else... and Steve fell asleep like that; curled up in the sheets and lost in his own thoughts.

Tony, on the other hand, was just getting started.  He loped down to the shop, punching in the code to the door, and waltzed in with a sense of peace settling over him.

"Hey, boys, Daddy's home!" he called.

"Welcome back, sir," said JARVIS automatically, flicking on the lights for him.

He beamed at 4UMM-E, who, voice-activated, scooted across the floor, bumped into the desk, and then whirled up to Tony like a dog.  Tony actually found himself putting an arm around the bot, which was ridiculous. 4UMM-E was nothing more than a voice-activated mechanical arm on a pair of treads.  And even if he were smart, like JARVIS, Tony had to sometimes remember that they were only devices. They felt no affection for him.

"Do you love me, JARVIS?"

"Does a man love his creator?" replied JARVIS philosophically.

"Well, Frankenstein's monster didn't."

"You think of me as a monster?"

"...JARVIS, have you learned avoidance?"

"If stalling is a form of avoidance, then yes, sir, it appears I have."

Tony rolled his eyes.  JARVIS's program, left alone, tended to evolve.  It was, after all, a learning program; when left alone, JARVIS, "bored," would scour the internet for any and all data.  He had no interest in any one particular piece of information; information was information to him. Tony could go into his code and see what he was "looking" at, and it ranged from top-secret, classified files lifted from the Pentagon, to information on the dietary habits of the black-chinned hummingbird, to translations of the Brady Bunch theme song in every available language.

If JARVIS had any preferences, they often aligned with Tony's.  Thus, JARVIS picked up sarcasm and avoidance regularly. Tony tweaked his code to keep JARVIS from getting too unbearable.  If given enough time, Tony suspected JARVIS would eventually pick up his own personality, and the world had enough Tony in it, in Tony's opinion.

"I want to get back to work on the MARK VII, the non-gantry armor," said Tony.  "Can you pull up the specs and throw me a 3D render of what I had so far, Jarv?"

"Of course, sir.  I've taken the liberty of making some minor adjustments to the forearm plate locking system," said JARVIS; a menu with a record of the changes appeared.  Tony's eyes darted across the lines of code, nodding.

JARVIS had been busy.

"Good boy, JARVIS."

"Please, sir, don't treat me like an omega."

"Why not?  Omegas are just as good as anyone else.  Besides, you were modeled after an omega."

"As a program, I decline to be assigned either a status or a sex."

"Too bad.  I'm telling you that you're a boy, and an omega."

"Shall I tell Captain Rogers we're in a trio, then?"

"Naw, I'm going to keep you my dirty little secret," said Tony, flopping into his desk chair and drumming the desk with a couple of screwdrivers.  "Do me a favor and start pulling all the data you can on Margaret Turner and Gene Bennett, will you?"

"Certainly, Mr. Stark."

"...and book Pepper and Aria a vacation.  Maybe somewhere in France or Italy, somewhere they can get away.  Slap together an itinerary. They need a break."

Tony dragged over a gauntlet, half-open, and began moving the internal wires around.  It felt good to be back in the lab, back at work, back with his tools. Tony worked in silence for about ten minutes, but then thoughts of Donner began to creep into his mind, and so he had JARVIS turn on some music, and turned the volume all the way up.  His bond was quiet; Steve, he suspect, was asleep.

* * *

When Steve woke up again it was about two in the afternoon. He got out of bed, devoured half of a fruit bowl, then went to go shower. He took his time and used peach scented shower gel that was almost _too_ sweet. He dressed in running gear, knowing Tony would still be in the lab. Then he went up to the gym. Steve didn't fancy risking going outside, even parts of the beach would be probably deserted. The conference had gone well, technically, but had still been a very harrowing experience. Sex and work might be Tony's outlet, but Steve's was definitely exercise.

He ran a worrying amount of kilometres in just over an hour considering he barely worked up a sweat. Steve's work out was cut short when JARVIS alerted him that there was someone at the door. He didn't think there was anyone around to answer it so headed down and found a man with all of their stuff from the hotel.

Steve thanked him and assured him that, _yes...he could manage the bags_.  (The man was an Alpha and Steve found it comical that, since he'd come out about his status, people were constantly offering to help him with things.  As if being an omega negated his super soldier strength.)

He dropped the bags onto the couch and pulled them open to find his sketchbook.  It was unharmed.  Then he went searching for his phone, and found it  quickly. Fortunately it didn't look like any their stuff had been vandalised; the phone, like the sketchbook, appeared unaltered. He found texts from Clint from before his call with him on the plane (and a lot of other missed calls). Aria had forwarded him some articles and Sam had texted to check if everything was okay. Steve decided to call him, flopping down onto a couch as he did so.

Sam picked up after three rings. "Hey man, what's up?"

"Just got home this morning," Steve said. "I realised we hadn't talked in a while. How are you?"

"You not gonna tell me about what it was like revisiting the forties for the weekend?" Sam teased gently. Steve could hear rustling in the background,; perhaps he was eating chips.

"Kinda done with those people," Steve said. "I just wanna hear about how you are."

"Well... right now they have me training SHIELD recruits. It's actually... fun. I went on a date with a girl named Rory last weekend, weird name, I know; I'm seeing her again tonight. Nothing crazy has really happened since Yemen, to be honest. Yeah, they were pissed at me but they got over it quickly enough."

"I still haven't thanked you properly for that," Steve breathed.

"And there's no need. I know you would do the same for me," Sam said. Steve couldn't argue with that. "Are you and Tony better now?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Better than we've been in a while actually. It's nice. I mean, we've come a long way, you know?"

"You really have. I remember your first week undercover, when you called me from that gala. You were so furious with him. I don't even remember why now. But you were being all that _that Tony Stark, how do people even put up with him...he's going to make my head explode_..."

Steve half smiled. "What's Rory like?"

"Oh a real fir- cracker. You'd love her. She's a professional boxer."

"Nice."

"Speaking of-- she's trying to call. Catch up later, alright? It was good to hear from you."

Then Sam was gone. Steve headed back upstairs and began flicking through articles Aria had forwarded to him:

_HUGE OMEGA WALK OUT: CAP CAUSES A COMMOTION._

_CAP IS BACK ON FIGHTING FOR OMEGA RIGHTS!_

_CAPTAIN AMERICA SABOTAGES ALPHA RIGHTS CONFERENCE._

_'WE ARE PEOPLE. WE ARE PRICELESS': A BATTLE CRY FOR THE SILENCED._

Steve's phone interrupted his scrolling with a call from Fury.

"...Steve.  You're causing quite a stir," said Fury.  He didn't sound thrilled. "Sometimes I get the idea you like getting beat down.  You realize you're picking a fight with a guy bigger than you, right? Gideon Malick is second in command at the World Security Council, and just because you've been decommissioned by SHIELD doesn't mean we're not keeping a close eye on you.  Malick's trying to open up a case against Stark and his weapons again. Seems to think a guy who crashes black-tie events drunk in his underpants shouldn't have access to anything capable of bringing down a fighter plane. Hard to argue with that."

Unfortunately, it was.

It had been less than a year since the fight at Stark Expo with Justin, which had resulted in civilian casualties, and less than a year since Tony's disastrous birthday party.  Both instances highlighted the danger and power of Tony's "toys," and since then, nearly everything Tony had done had demonstrated, at least to the general public, that he was unstable and unpredictable.

"Try to keep yourself out of trouble, will you, Captain?  My reach only extends so far." Fury sounded... tired.

In the basement, Tony was stifling yawns himself.

"Jarv, any news?" he called, sitting back and rubbing his eyes.  In front of him was a boot, cracked open to reveal a series of pistons and wires.  Tony was holding a sautering iron. This was only a prototype, not one he planned to wear, but one he needed to make sure fit with another piece.

"Yes, sir.  _Captain America's Crusade for Equality.  Steve Rogers Liberates in the Twenty-First Century.  Fighting the Next Great War: Omega--"_

"Why's it all about him?  I was there, too," interrupted Tony.  "I got my hackles all itchy for him. ...aren't there any news stories with my name in them?"

" _Stark Industries' Ambassador IV Rocket Hits Wakandan Hospital in Refugee Camp, Killing Three, Injuring Eight_ ," said JARVIS helpfully.

"...fucking hell, _again_?"  Tony threw a wrench across the room.  It hit one of his cars, but he didn't care.

He'd halted weapons production at his company three years ago and still, weapons kept cropping up like bad pennies.  The entire Delegate line, the Ambassador IV, the late-model Contenders... even a few Jericho rip-offs.

No matter how hard he tried, his bloody fingerprints still kept appearing in the far-flung corners of a trouble world, and at times, Tony felt like he was the Reaper in the center of a universe of life, creating an ever-widening circle of death.

He debated whether to have a drink or slap on the suit and fly to Wakanda to shoot some insurgents.

Wakanda was a silent country that abhorred outside intervention, and so in the end, Tony decided to let it go.  (In the early 80's, Howard Stark had offered the tiny country aid in the form of palm pilots, one for every child, his reasoning being that education was critical to pulling one up by the bootstraps.  Wakanda had refused.  Howard had proceeded to air-drop the palm pilots over the country anyway, and then write off the expense on his tax returns.)

Instead, Tony rifled through his desk drawer to see if he had any blow. He wasn't sure alcohol would cut it this time, and besides, he had to stay awake and keep working.  Until the Mark VII was done, he was vulnerable without the gantry, which made him uneasy. In the suit, he was invincible... but getting into the suit posed a problem. Tony was all about solving problems.  He was problem-solver. Problem-solving is what he did.

"Update: Four dead," said JARVIS.

"Mute," said Tony grumpily, then changed his mind and said, "...actually, go back to reading Steve's headlines.  At least one of us is doing some good in this world..."

* * *

Upstairs, Steve was arguing with Fury over the good he'd been doing.

"Okay, well, firstly, _he_ picked the fight. Gideon's been instigating fights with me since Day One.  He's a statusist, sir; he doesn't like me because I'm an omega, but I can't help that. And I didn't fight anyone!  All I did was tell a bunch of teenagers that they didn't _have_ to sell themselves to a bunch of creepy old men. Surprisingly enough they were pretty thrilled at the news. I didn't even walk out with them," Steve pointed out. "Literally all I did at this conference was talk to people."

He heard Fury sigh.

"You ever met Donner?"

"Who?"

"Gideon's mate. You know he bought him, yeah, _bought_ , because he looked like me?"

"Your point being?"  Fury's voice didn't betray whether or not he was surprised by this information.

"It's not _entirely_ my fault that that man hates me.  He's got a sick obsession with me."

"Is that why your head's so big, Captain?"  Steve didn't have to see Nick to know he was smiling just a little bit.

"Okay. We'll be good. I think we're too worn out for anything else now anyway."

Nick sighed again. "How reassuring."

"How are you Nick?"

"What do you mean, _'how am I?'_ "  He sounded almost offended.

"I mean, how are _you_ doing?"

"I'm fine. Considering you don't even work for SHIELD anymore, you take up far too much of my time, Captain."  His voice was curt, the trace of a smile gone.  Nick Fury had never been one to talk much about his own feelings.

"I literally brought the Winter Soldier to you last week; I'd say that makes up for at least some of the trouble I caused." The line was quiet for a moment and then Steve asked, "I did do the right thing, didn't I?"

"Yes," Nick said plainly. "You did. I'll be going now, Captain.  Please try to behave." 

"No promises," said Steve.

Nick sighed, loudly, grumbled a good-bye, and hung up, but Steve swore that he'd heard the smile come back into Nick Fury's voice at the end of the call.  Nick Fury knew, better than anyone, the futility of telling Captain America to behave.


	21. Guilt and Unfinished Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun history fact: in the Ming dynasty they had bowls for prostitut's to spit into, and Sappho has handled one in a museum. - Apollo

Steve went downstairs to cook up some dinner to find there was almost no food in the house.  He pulled out of his phone and ordered them two pizzas; he was feeling too lazy to cook. It took less than half an hour to arrive. The first pizza didn't last very long; he ate it in under ten minutes, working out in his head how long Tony had been in the lab.  All day, it seemed.  At least six hours.

Steve didn't like disturbing him. The lab was Tony's space and when he was working he never liked being interrupted. But Steve knew he hadn't eaten anything for far too many hours so took the pizza box downstairs.

JARVIS let him through and he stepped into the lab, setting the pizza down on a workbench as he scoured the chaos for his mate. "Tony?"

There were a few clanks.  Across the room, the torso of a suit without arms or a lower half was hung from the ceiling by chains bolted to the concrete ceiling; wires like viscera were trailing out of the suit's interior.  It looks rather like a person on a meat hook and it was unsettling.

Tony's face appeared from behind it, holding a pair of bolt cutters.  There was a smear of grease across his cheek.

"Oh, hi, Steve!" he said, sounding bubbly.  "What is that, pizza? Thanks but no thanks, I'm not hungry.  I think I just made a breakthrough! Hey, for my birthday, I was thinking white tigers.  Can we get some of those guys? Or orange, honestly, orange would work. Are we still doing that June auction?  I just realized orchids and tigers both come in white, and orange. Can I borrow your shield? I wanna show you something cool.  Give me your shield."

Steve had seen Tony like this before: manic.  But it had been a while and to be honest this was pretty manic even for Tony.  If he'd told Steve he'd injected himself with hummingbird blood, Steve wouldn't have been surprised.  Even standing still, Tony was still vibrating with excitement, and his hands, operating independently, had picked up a screwdriver and were adjusting some hex bolts along the side of the suit.

"You really should eat something Tony," Steve pointed out gently. But he full well knew that until he went to fetch his shield that Tony wouldn't eat, or stop tinkering. If there was one thing he loved more than building his suit, Steve found, it was showing it off. "But okay..."

He went upstairs. The shield was at the back of their wardrobe. It was so strange to see it now. Steve's life had become so domestic, compared to his more recent track record. His shield was a part of his old life and now struggled for any sort of relevance in his new one. Steve sighed. He didn't know what to do with it.

"You can have the shield," Steve told him when he returned to the workshop. "But--" He pushed the pizza box toward. "Eat first. And yes, we'll do the auction. And why do you want tigers exactly? Can't we just get a dog like normal people?"

Now a dog wasn't a bad idea. Maybe Steve could get one big enough to go running with him...

"No dog!" Tony almost shouted.  His head and shoulders had disappeared into the interior of the suit; he pulled it out, even more grease on his face.  "Gimme that shield. Okay, this is great, watch this!" He plucked the shield from Steve, nearly dropping it, and then ran across the room.  

Steve sighed fondly as Tony just took the shield anyway. Maybe once the performance was over he could get Tony to sleep and eat. Or he could at least hope.

"Okay, so, here's what I've got so far. JARVIS! Power up the MARK VII suit components. ...so the idea is that they come to me and self-assemble. Watch! Jarv, _activate_!

Tony hadn't given Steve much warning; a piece on the desk suddenly lit up and shot across the room like a rocket.

Tony's request for the shield began immediately obvious.  The piece hurtled toward Tony and pinged off the shield, crashing into the wall; several more pieces were flying, with varying degrees of aggressiveness, at Tony, who was doing a pretty good job of letting them hit the shield.

"Okay, so, obviously, the main problem is that I don't want them to like, y'know, break anything when they attach!" hollered Tony.  He paused to lower the shield. "I think that's all of them."

There was a whoosh, a thunk, and the back of Tony's helmet slammed into his head, knocking him to the ground.

Tony gave Steve a thumbs-up from the floor.  "Good thing I was wearing my helmet," he said weakly.

His eyes widened when pieces of the suit began shooting across the room at Tony at an alarming rate. "Tony! You already have concussion; you didn't need to give it to yourself again! Oh my God..." Steve was at his side at instant, shield forgotten on the floor. He moved to help Tony sit up then inspected the back of his head with a frown. There would be a nasty bruise there later.

"Okay. Very impressive and all...but your lab safety is terrible." Steve told him fondly; then, before Tony could protest, he picked him up. There was no one else to see it. And sometimes Steve couldn't help but mother him.

"Come on." He paused by the desk to shove the pizza box into Tony's hand so the other would carry it. "You need to sleep Tony, or at least... shower. You really need to shower."

"But I'm so close, Steve!  I'm so close to having armor that comes to me and self-assembles... I'll be like a _god,_ Steve!  I told you, I'm not hungry!  Or tired! Lemme down! Shower sounds like a good idea!  Can we have sex in the shower?" Tony kept up a constant stream of babble as Steve carried him up the stairs.

Pepper was sitting in their living room, gathering up some research proposals; she looked up and her brow furrowed.

"You seem more excited and distractable than usual..." she observed suspiciously.  "I heard a crash downstairs. Is everything o--"

"Steve lemme down, Pepper guess what, I was just working on my suit, everything's great, what kind of pizza is this, seriously, let me down, Steve-- Steve---"  Tony was squirming, still clutching the pizza box.

Pepper rose and walked over to them, took the pizza box, tilted Tony's head up, and looked at his eyes.

She frowned disapprovingly.  "You did a line of coke, didn't you?"

"Yes but only because I was trying to get some work done, I'm very behind, why didn't you tell me about Wakanda--"

"Tony.  Slow down."

Tony's already agile brain, capable of switching between multiple streams of thoughts at once, often giving the impression of a short attention span, was about ten times worse when he was on any sort of stimulant.  If Pepper had her way, he wouldn't even drink coffee.

Tony managed to squirm out of Steve's arms.  "I will in just a second!" he said. A moment later he was going outside to the pool deck and there was a loud splash.

"There's coke in the house?!" Steve looked mildly horrified. He was mildly stunned and Tony easily slipped out of his grip.

Pepper gave him a sympathetic sort of look that made him feel like an idiot. Steve really should have known. But he didn't rummage in Tony's workshop, just like he didn't look through Steve's sketchbook.  He was tempted to go down there and try and find the damned stuff but he knew Tony could acquire more very easily if he wanted to.

Pepper sighed.  "...give him two or three hours to come down.  Enjoy," she said drily to Steve, tucking the reports under her arm.  "I have to head into the office but if you could get him to sign the statements I left in the kitchen, that would be wonderful.  Full disclosure: Tony gets horny when he's tweaking. ...ask Beth, she knew him in the nineties." Pepper rolled her eyes affectionately.

Steve sighed just after Pepper did. "Oh, I know. But he doesn't get any if he's under influence."

Pepper laughed quietly. "I bet that's fun for him," she murmured bemusedly.

"I'll get the stuff signed by tomorrow," Steve assured him. Pepper smiled at him tiredly and patted his arm.

He held the door open for her so she didn't have to fiddle around with all the reports under her arms. She thanked him and slipped out. Steve wasn't sure but he was pretty certain he spotted Happy waiting out in the driveway behind the wheel. He smiled subtly and let the door slip shut.

Steve grabbed towels before he headed outside to find Tony still in the pool. "Are you ready to come out yet?"

Tony grinned at Steve, floating past on his back.  "Wanna come in with me?" he asked temptingly. He'd pulled off all his clothes, but apparently only after jumping in; the soggy pile was by the side of the pool.  "Water's nice..." He twisted around to tread water and watch Steve, still grinning. "Y'know, Iron Man doesn't have any actual iron? No rust. Pretty nice, huh? In theory I could design a suit that could be watertight, like a personal submarine... like one of those crazy old diving suits from your time... get in with me, Steve!"  He splashed some water in Steve's direction. "You said you didn't wanna do anything all day... c'mon, swimming is nothing, isn't it? ...can you grab me a bottle of gin since you're out right now, though? Hey, isn't refraction cool? ...you seem upset. Are you upset? I felt a sort of stomach pang here. Am I hungry or is that you? Hey!  Chalupas! Let's do chalupas tonight!"

Without any warning, Tony dove, touched the bottom, then surfaced again, shaking out his hair aggressively.  Without any product, and soaking wet, the ends of it came into his eyes.

Steve couldn't help  but smile at the sight. Tony's hair plastered all over his face...it was kinda cute.

"I would but I think you need to sober up and get some sleep Tony," Steve told him calmly, not sounding annoyed. He knelt down by the pool side but made no move to get in. He laughed when Tony splashed at him, some of the water landing on his cheek. He reached up a hand to rub it off. "No gin. But I can get you pizza. You're probably starving. One minute--"

Steve disappeared and returned with the pizza. He set the box by the poolside hopefully. He had gotten Tony's favourite: pepperonis and peppers

"And I don't know what chalupas are? But sure. If we have the right ingredients, there's no fridge food..." Steve trailed off and sighed. Tony was clearly hyperactive and was not interested in Steve's ramblings about they did and didn't have in the fridge. "You wanna have a shower after you've eaten?"

"I'm really not hungry," insisted Tony, coming up to side of the pool. His eyes lit up at Steve's mention of a shower.  "Yes! Yes, I want to shower! ....will you wear the collar again?"

Tony heaved himself out of the pool, ignoring the pizza, and jumped on Steve's back, hugging him.  "Look, I'm a baby koala. Did you know koalas all have chlamydia? I've had it twice. It sucks." Tony trailed into silence for a brief moment, then perked back up.  "Mush! To the shower, my steed!" he announced grandly, giving Steve a prod with his heel. "Hey, we should start a charity to put antibiotics in eucalyptus to help the koalas.  Are they really bears? I dunno. Didja see how my suit comes to me now? I think what I need is a better accelerator. Because it's not slowing down when it attaches, it's just kinda slamming into me.  Speaking of slamming me into things, shower! Oh! And I was able to find Gene Bennett using JARVIS. He works in New York and he's basically a sort of job recruiter. A human broker, if you will. I'm guessing that's how he's hiding the occasional unwilling omega.  Why don't they just let 'em go? They had plenty of brainwashed ones. Maybe it's 'cause they've seen too much. I bet that's the deal with Trickshot. I bet he has all sorts of horrible secrets about Ron. Have you talked to Clint?"

"Tony! Oh my God," Steve reached back to grab Tony's legs to support him. "You-- you really need to warn me before you do that." Even with all Steve's strength, having Tony's body weight thrown at him almost knocked him over. And he didn't want to drop a very coked up Tony. Once he gathered himself he began to carry Tony upstairs, regretfully leaving the pizza out in the sun. "Yes, I spoke to Clint. Everything is fine. His brother is just... a sensitive topic for him." Steve hated lying about Clint's family. He hoped he felt like he could tell Tony someday.

Tony kissed his head affectionately.

"We're not having sex in the shower Tony," Steve told him plainly. He gently leaned backwards and dropped Tony onto the bed once they were upstairs before starting up the shower. Tony's shower got warm so quickly that there was no need to wait for it, but Steve still stuck his hand under the spray to check the temperature out of habit. Then he went back to fetch Tony. He was already naked at least, so Steve didn't have to undress him.

"Right, come on. Into the shower. Let's get you cleaned up properly."

Tony beamed at Steve.  While Steve fiddled in the bathroom, Tony zipped around the room, checking the orchid by their bed and getting himself a drink from the bar and making minor adjustments to the telescope by the window, the whole time talking, more to himself than Steve, about all his plans for the Mark VII.

"--was thinking I could implant magnets into myself and have myself by like a transmitter and basically send out a constant radio wave frequency that the suit could ID and-- oh, good, the shower's ready!  You go in first, I'm not going in without you, you stink, not in a bad way, I love the way you smell, you're my mate, but obviously you've been working out, how far did you run today, here let me help you."

Tony pushed Steve's shirt up, his fingers dancing over Steve's stomach.

"Please don't put magnets in your head!" Steve called back, grabbing Tony's favorite shower gel and shampoo and shoving them in the floor of the shower. The selection they had was ridiculous. A few weeks into first moving in Tony had decided that Steve had to try _everything_ because in the forites they'd just had plain soap. And they were still making their way through all of it.

"No. Tony. I'll shower _after_ you. You get in-- _Tony_." Steve huffed out a fond sigh and gently pushed Tony's hand down and off of his abdomen. "If you shower, then sleep, then _eat_...then you can touch as much as you want. But right now, you shower and you sober up. Come on. I'm not getting in there with you."

He gently pushed Tony into the shower. "Look, that's not so hard, is it?"

"Come in here with me!" whined Tony.

"I said no. You're high and I'm not. I'm not having sex with you," Steve insisted. He kept his tone patient, understanding and calm. It was hard not to smile at Tony being so petulant. It wasn't like Steve was often in the mood. But this wasn't about that.

He sat on the floor of the shower and crossed his arms, pouting.  Tony had a remarkable ability to use passive resistance to get what he wanted.  Steve had witnessed him do things like this with Pepper all the time.

The wet hair plastered over his forehead and dripping into his eyes took away some of the seriousness Tony was clearly trying to convey.  Also, he clearly couldn't stay still; his fingers were moving on his arms, playing invisible piano chords, and his knees were bouncing, jiggling really.

"Please, Steve, please, I miss you, I love you, you're my omega, let me make you feel good?" begged Tony.  He bounced back onto his feet. "...we're in a drought, it's important to conserve water, come in with me, it's environmentally logical!  Or we can go to the bed! Yeah! I'm done!"

Tony tore out of the shower before Steve could stop him and flung himself into the bed, still soaking wet.

He sighed fondly when he saw Tony pounce onto the bed and grabbed a towel. He walked over and tried to dry Tony off in the least sexual manner possible. Steve could tell the other was still enjoying it far too much though. "You... you lie down. I'll shower very quickly and don't you dare try and get in with me," Steve warned him, but his tone was light.

Tony practically purred, rolling around and squirming happily as Steve tried to run a towel over him.

"Steve... c'mon, you can't leave me like this!" protested Tony, gesturing.  Steve's attempt to dry Tony off had given him an erection. Tony wiggled his eyebrows, clearly proud of it.

Steve leaned forward. "If you get some sleep and sober up I'll do whatever you want, okay? I'll even wear a collar for you. But not when you're high," he repeated and then straightened up. "Don't try to join," Steve added again and shut the bathroom door behind him to try and quell the temptation.

Tony was right; he did smell and Steve really did need a shower.

Steve shut him down again and closed the bathroom door firmly behind him.  Tony whined loudly. There was no response from the other side of the door.  Tony rolled out of bed again, went to the bar, and grabbed a drink, then, unaware to remain still, paced a bit, wondering if he ought to back downstairs to work.

Sex and tinkering were pretty much on par for Tony.  If Steve wasn't down to clown around then Tony could get his screws elsewhere, in the form of literal screws.

Tony threw back a few shots to help calm himself down and then grabbed and towel and shot back downstairs, immediately getting sidetracked by--

"Uh, Tony?"

"Rhodey!!" shrieked Tony with delight, lunging at his best friend.  "I haven't seen you in--"

"Why don't you ever wear clothes?" demanded Rhodes, shoving Tony off of him.  "And why the hell do you have an erection, Jesus..."

"I'm just so happy to see you!  Hey! Wanna see something cool?"

"No.  I want you to clear up your Friday night for a sit-down with the King of Wakanda.  They're having some civil unrest in the north and a lot of the insurgents are using old Stark technology."

"I can suit up and go take 'em out."

"No, Tony.  Diplomacy first.  No more of this ready, fire, aim stuff you do."

Tony went quiet.

"...so is that a yes?"

Tony nodded.

"Tony?  ...Tony, you okay?  You in there, Tones?  Hello?"

"Obie said that once," said Tony in a distant voice.  "Hey, can you hand me that Satsuma vase?"

"...this one?" said Rhodey in confusion, reaching out and picking up a heavy ceramic vase from a small table.

"Yeah, thanks," said Tony, and bent over it to vomit.

"Jesus," repeated Rhodes.

"Sorry, sorry... I heard about Wakanda and then did a line and then drank and then... now... okay... I'm gonna sit down now..."

"Are you having a panic attack?"

"No," groaned Tony, sinking to the floor and clutching the vase.

Rhodey crouched beside him.  "How often do these happen?"

"Not much-- I'm fine--"  Tony's eyes were squeezed shut and he was wheezing softly.

"Maybe you shouldn't do cocaine if you know that you're prone to anxiety attacks, huh?"

"Thanks... Doc..." wheezed Tony, reaching up with one hand to clutch at his chest.

"How much is that vase worth?"

"Probably two thousand... more now that Tony Stark's vomit is inside it..." joked Tony weakly.

"Where's Steve?"

"Upstairs.  Shower."

"...how 'bout we get you to bed and hand you off to him?"

"My suit..." protested Tony weakly, but Rhodes helped him to his feet and dragged him, towel-clad and still clutching the vase, back upstairs.

Steve stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to find Rhodes and Tony in the bedroom. Tony almost looked sheepish but was still obviously completely out of it. Rhodey looked like he'd dealt with this before.

"I found him downstairs," Rhodey said and Steve sighed.

"Give me one minute."

Steve slipped into the walk in wardrobe and changed into clothes that were soft enough to sleep in. Then he reappeared and immediately went to refill a glass from the bedside full of water.

Steve handed it Tony. "Drink."

"You have any idea what brought this on?" Rhodey asked and Steve shook his head.

When Tony tried to wander off again they lead him back. "Hey, come on. Let's go to bed Tony," Steve said. "You must be tried."

He gave Rhodey a look. "He's been in the workshop for like... ten hours.  Ever since we got back."

"I'm not tired!" yelled Tony.  "And also, stop talking about me like I'm not here!  Hey! Since there's three of us we should--"

"Tony, gimme the vase," said Rhodey, prying the vase out of Tony's hands.

"--Rhodey, you're unbonded, you should be our plant!"

"Huh?"

"For buying a used Alpha!  For tracking down Trickshot!"

"Okay, Tony..."

Tony let Rhodey shove him into bed, but he was still drumming away with his fingers.  Rhodey shot Steve a look. "It might be better to just let him go work. Usually when he gets hopped up, he either works on something or sleeps with like, four women."

"Did you see my sex tape?" asked Tony excitedly.  "And it was five!"

"I can watch him for you if you want," said Rhodey.  "Also, the reason I'm here is that the King of Wakanda, T'Chaka, requested an audience with him following the most recent terrorist attack in their northern region.  One of the old Ambassador IV rockets hit a hospital and killed three civilians."

"Four," corrected Tony.  "Killed four. And injured eight.  Seriously, I can suit up right now and fly over there and--"

"Talk to T'Chaka first," said Rhodey.  "...no one is blaming you, Tony, we know you don't make weapons anymore."

Tony's chipper mood was leaking out of him like water through a hole in a bucket.  "So what if I don't make them anymore? They're still in the wrong hands. They're still out there, killing people."

"Tony, seriously, in the last three years you've done a ton to stabilize the Middle East.  The whole Iron Man thing is great... now lay down, I wanna rinse this vase out..."

"It's a cheap vase, you can just throw it out."

"I'm not throwing out a five-hundred-year-old Ming dynasty vase.  Pepper would annihilate me."

And suddenly Tony getting high made sense. Steve couldn't feel his guilt, only a low buzz from the drugs. He felt bad because he probably slept through Tony feeling like shit, instead of being there for him. If he'd been awake he might have felt something and gone downstairs... but he hadn't been.  Tony's mania with the suits was fueled by guilt.  He should have known.

"If you want to go and work you have to put clothes back on," Steve told him, not wanting Tony to have sparks flying near... down there.

"And it's okay. Really, I don't have anything else to be doing," he assured Rhodey.

Rhodey lifted up the vase. "I'll be back in a sec." Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

Steve turned around and grabbed some clothes for Tony. He held out the t-shirt. "Come on Tony." The other was not remotely interested in getting dressed. Steve sighed. It would seem he'd have to bribe him. "If you get dressed I'll give you a kiss but _only_ if you get dressed."

"Okay, okay, okay," said Tony quickly, snatching the shirt from Steve and wrestling it onto himself.  "Now gimme my kiss. Rhodes, wanna see what I'm working on downstairs? I have this idea for self-assembling--"

"You're not gonna get back on coke, are you?" asked Rhodey, peeking out from the bathhroom.

"No, no, no, this was just for now, I gotta keep working, I'm really close, Steve'll tell you, the suit--"

"You got anymore in the house we should know about?"

"Maybe ten grams, hardly any, listen, Rhodey, I'm going to implant--"

"I'll let T'Chaka know you're available."

"Thanks Rhodey you're the best, hey, Steve, c'mon, gimme some sugar!"  Tony flung himself at Steve, wrapping his arms around his neck and nuzzling into his chest affectionately.

"Is ten grams a lot?" Steve asked, genuinely not knowing how bad that was.

"Yes!" Rhodey shouted from the bathroom. Steve sighed.

"I can come with, when you go see T'Challa...if you want," he suggested tentatively.  It was blatantly obvious at this point that Tony was not dealing with the news of Wakanda well.

He sighed and smiled down at Tony fondly. Steve kissed his forehead noisily. "There you go. There's your kiss. Now are you gonna go work, or try and sleep? Or... throw up again?"

Rhodey appeared from the bathroom with the rescued vase and set it down far away from Tony's reach. "At least don't be sick in any more antiques, Tony."

"T'Challa is the crown prince, not the king.  T'Chaka's the one who specifically requested to speak to Tony.  And I want to emphasize, he's not angry, he knows you're not behind this... he just wants to strategize with you about preventing--" began Rhodey, but Tony wasn't listening.

"A _forehead kiss_?  Are you serious right now, Rogers?  I'm gonna work, I gotta work, I gotta finish the Mark VII--"

"What, you planning on getting attacked sometime soon?" asked Rhodey.

"So far, it's been about twice a year, so yeah," replied Tony truthfully.  "Rogers, c'mon, give me a _real_ kiss."  He ran a hand through Steve's hair, then brushed behind his ear teasingly.

"You're high and I'm not encouraging this by giving you what you want," Steve told him pointedly, the edge of his lips twitching upwards. Tony was so indignant about it' it was almost sweet.

He thought about the chances of Tony getting attacked...Steve guessed being mated to each other just made them a bigger target; two birds, one stone.

If Tony had had the suit in New York he could have gone straight after Bucky... and probably would have killed him. It was a sobering thought.

But Tony dragged him out of his own thoughts when his fingers brushed near that sweet spot behind Steve's ear. He failed to repress a shiver. "Tony," he said in warning, because Rhodey was in the room. But then he gave him a kiss him anyway, firm but brief. "Right. That's all you're getting, mister."

Tony cackled manically and tore out of the room in only a t-shirt.

"Pants!" yelled Rhodey after him.  "...he's not just gonna be Porky Piggin' it, is he?  ...does he normally work naked? No, don't tell me, I don't wanna know."  He shook his head. "Listen, Captain, as long as I've got you alone, I also need to ask a favor.  A couple of favors. Virginia Military Institute, West Point, and the Air Force Academy have asked you to give a commencement speech for their graduations.  All three are this May. I know you and Tony have a thing planned for June, what with your anniversary but... it would mean a lot to the boys in uniform to see you throw on the Cap uniform and give them an inspiring speech.  ...but if you could, you know, leave out the omega stuff and just talk about being in the armed forces, you know... patriotic stuff. ...I sort of already promised USAFA you'd do it." Rhodey stuffed a few papers in Steve's hand.  "Here's the info. Thanks man. I owe you one."

Even though it was April, neither Tony nor Steve had made any particular plans for their anniversary in June, nor for Tony's birthday in May.  They'd been too busy with Steve's projects. Tony, at least, had assumed Pepper was probably on top of things. Worst case scenario, they could auction off all the orchids on eBay and still probably make a fortune.

Most of the plants had lost their flowers but about a third were already re-blooming.  Hopefully by June more than half would be in bloom. There were only a few Tony planned to keep: the one from Pepper, for example, had been lovingly placed in his workshop and was given particular amounts of attention compared to the rest.

"Of course," Steve said, surprised at the offer and oddly flattered by it. It was clear Alphas like the ones at the conference didn't see him as a valid soldier, or didn't anymore, now that his true status has been revealed. Steve was aware that the army was still dominated by Alphas and it was nice to think military institutes wanted to hear from him. He looked down at the pages and blinked. "I can do patriotic." Steve smiled a little. "Believe it or not."

Patriotism didn't have the same charm that it used to. That was one thing Steve had found in the 21st century... America wasn't as golden as it was made out to be back in his day.

"Thanks Rhodey," Steve was smiling properly now. "I better go get some pants on Tony though, or at least an apron...just to be safe." He winced a little and Rhodey chuckled quietly. "And really, you don't owe me one. After Yemen, I owe you. And I'd be lying if I said I probably won't enjoy it at least a little... I _do_ like giving speeches."

He grabbed the trousers off the bed.

"Good luck," Rhodey told him, only half joking.

"Thanks, I might need it," Steve nodded, only half joking himself, and then went to follow Tony down to his workshop.

The shop was lit up; Tony was welding something.  He'd discarded his shirt but had thrown on a heavy lead apron that came down to his knees and was wearing a pair of welding goggles, at least.  Tony's lab safety was something of a mystery to everyone but Tony.

"Not now, Steve!  I'm on the verge of a breakthrough!  I'm telling you, I got this!" said Tony, trembling with excitement.  "...just think, just imagine, if I could summon a suit like Sailor Moon-style, have that shit clamp right onto me, get it at any time."  He paused suddenly, mood shifting abruptly. "If he ever comes back for you, I'll be able to kill him."

With that, he pulled the goggles back down and went back to welding, humming to himself loudly.  The shop was Tony's happy place; even buzzed as he was, his hands were steady as he worked.

Steve sighed fondly. He set the trousers on the table on the workbench. "Just...don't do any more cocaine Tony. Please."

He headed upstairs to find Rhodey had shown himself out. Steve really wasn't sure what to do with himself. He'd gotten into enough trouble for the week, hell the year. He was about to head upstairs when he smelt a hint of nicotine in the air. He stepped outside to find Aria by the pool on one of the deckchairs, she was smoking and tapping away her tablet. Aria looked up to see him and smiled, "hey."

"How's it going?" Steve asked, taking the bench opposite her.

"Well, turns out someone just booked me a holiday which is pretty sweet," Aria said and then reached over to gently punch his bicep. "I'd grovel about how 'you shouldn't have' but we totally earned it.  Oh, and Saturday Night Live wants you. I'm thinking at the end of this month?"

"Er... what do they do?"

"Comedy stuff. It's exactly your sort of thing; you're funny when you want to be," Aria flicked through some emails. "Oh, and you have to have a meeting about your ankle bracelets next week.  I think they're finally ready to uncuff you."  Steve and Tony had been wearing the bracelets on their ankles since the Yemen incident.  Tony mentioned, often, how badly it was ruining his tan.

"Will Malick be there?" asked Steve warily.

"Yep."

Steve sighed and leant his head back. "Wonderful...."

Aria took a long, contemplative drag, then pointed the cigarette at Steve.  "Malick won't be there alone. There will be at least two or three other members of the World Security Council.  So he shouldn't be able to say or do anything. Best to just ignore him, Steve. After that conference, he'll probably try to get under your skin, but with the others there, he'll have to at least pretend to be nice.  My advice to you is to do the same." She looked back down at her tablet. "I'm sending you a few possible venues for that charity dinner you want to have in June. We need a place big enough to accommodate all the orchids so people can bid on them.  I recommend a silent auction. ...have you and Tony discussed anniversary plans at all yet?"

She fixed him with her piercing, serious gaze.  "...you're not _just_ doing the auction, right?  I know sometimes you get a little hyper-focused on your projects, but even with Eighty-Four in the works, you're going to take some personal time with your mate, aren't you?"  Another pause. "Have you told him about it, yet? Because we're getting closer and closer, and Tony seems like he's..."

She trailed off.  Her gaze flicked toward the glass door that led out to the pool deck, and the pizza sitting there on the ground said everything she couldn't.

"I'll be good, seriously. I don't want to piss him off anymore. I'm worried about what it'll make him do to his own mate." Steve said, staring up at the sky. He felt awful for Donner, like somehow looking like him made him accountable for what happened...which was ridiculous, even if that it is why Gideon bought him in the first place. "And I really want to be able to go to England. Peggy's birthday isn't long after Tony's.  I want to go see her, once we get these monitor things off."  Steve didn't say it, but he didn't know how much time Peggy had left.  
  
"Don't people usually go to a fancy restaurant for their anniversary?" Steve asked and Aria gave him a look. Bucky and him didn't exactly do anniversaries; they'd never had the means to. It was a treat if there was food on the table and Steve wasn't sick.   
  
"Dude. You can't just go for a meal."   
  
"Like... a holiday, or a trip, or something?"   
  
"Yes. Like a holiday. You take him somewhere special and you go visit tourist attractions and go to an over priced hotel. Come on Steve, there's so much of the world you haven't seen."

"I've been to Italy.  And France," said Steve a little defensively.

Aria rolled her eyes. "You have time to travel, why not?  You have the money, too.  You and Tony should go visit somewhere nice."   
  
She had a good point.

"So does he know?  About Project 84?"  
  
"Tony knows it's a thing, sort of. But I didn't want to tell him until we definitely had it...on the ground, you know? It was just sort of a passing thought at first. I didn't realise we'd actually make it this far," Steve said quietly.

"Well, we have.  So make sure he knows."  
  
Now's not a good time.  He's trying to make his suit self-assemble so he took cocaine," he said, following her gaze to the pizza box as he looked up.   
  
Aria snorted. "Right. Sure. Makes sense."   
  
Steve glanced sideways at her. "Did you and Mac ever...?"

"...Steve, I work as a publicist in Southern California," said Aria with a hint of exasperation in her voice.  She steered the conversation, expertly, away from herself. "I'm more worried about Stark's drinking. That man had a problem.  I had a chat with his ex, Beth. She's great. ...but Tony's addiction problems, those seem like they're pretty far-reaching. So.  Your anniversary. Virginia and I were thinking somewhere in Europe. What do you think?"

She flipped the tablet to show Steve a picture of a resort in Switzerland.

"You think I'm not worried about his drinking? Even when I was his 'assistant' I would rip into him about it and serve him singles instead of doubles. Tony knows I don't like it. He can literally _feel_ it, you know? But in the end he's a grown man. I could throw out all the alcohol in the house but within a hour he could replace it all. He knows I would support him in going cold turkey," Steve said simply and shrugged. "He... just don't want to. And there's nothing I can do about that, is there?"

There was a muffled rumble from downstairs (an explosion?) and a moment later, black smoke was pouring up from the basement door.

Tony stumbled up, coughing.  The first thing Steve saw was the bright blue glow of the arc reactor through the smoke, then Tony's body materialize around it.  "--I'm fine, everything's fine!" he coughed, waving his hand to try to clear the air.

"...don't you ever wear pants?" asked Aria, sounding grossed out, covering her eyes.  Tony was still in nothing but a heavy apron, his welding goggles pushed back onto his head.

"This is my house!  Don't _you_ ever _knock_?  I never get any privacy anymore!  You, Pepper, Rhodey, the whole Fury entourage... every time I come up here, there's always someone here!  I liked living alone better-- I mean, living alone with Steve, obviously. I want Steve here," Tony added hastily.

"What did you do?" Steve asked and stood, walking over to check Tony's eyes. He looked suitably less out of it than before, at least. Steve sighed fondly and turned back to Aria. She'd already put out her cigarette.

"It's Steve's house too," Aria pointed out. "And if no one came around whilst you went on your little tinkering sprees, Steve would be left alone for like... days on end." Unlike Pepper, she was less sympathetic to Tony's whims and was evidently more concerned about how they impacted on Steve. "I'm going to yoga later," she told Steve. "You should try it out. It's very in this century."

"In what?" asked Steve.

Aria laughed and patted his arm.  "In style."

Steve glanced over at Tony. "Will you be okay if I leave you on your own for a few hours?"

"Absolutely," said Tony, still coughing lightly.  "I'm making a ton of progress down there! Go do yoga, go be stretchy.  I love stretchiness. You can show me what you learned later." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Aria rolled her eyes none-too-subtly.

"Don't smoke in my house," added Tony.  "I can still smell--"

"Are you kidding?" asked Aria; black smoke was still pouring from the basement door.

"I never kid," said Tony gravely.  Aria rolled her eyes again.

"Come on, Steve, let's go."

"Have fun, guys.  I'm serious, Steve!  Learn some cool positions!" hollered Tony.

"It's not about _that_ kind of thing, right?" asked Steve, brow crinkling with concern.

Aria laughed and patted his arm. "Steve. It's yoga. Not _sex positions_. Although those two things aren't mutually exclusive..."

Steve reddened.

He changed into gym clothes, per Aria's instruction, before they headed out. He didn't like leaving Tony along still half-stoned but the offer to get out of the house had been incredibly tempting. Steve asked JARVIS to call or text immediately if Tony had or looked like he was going to hurt himself (something Pepper had informed he could do.)

Aria drove a small car that was bright yellow in colour. Steve felt it suited her personality just right. She was wearing a sleeveless vest top that showed off a tattoo on her arm. It was a bunch of multi-coloured flowers, a metal shape of some sort peeking out from between them. It might have been a horse shoe, but Steve wasn't sure.  His guess was that the tattoo was for Aria's moms.

At the back of Steve's mind he was still worrying about Tony. He glanced down at his phone at the top of his bag. No texts or missed calls.  No doubt Tony was lost in work.  In his gut, Steve could feel the churning of guilt.  It made him feel sorry for Tony who, he knew, wore the mantle of Iron Man as a sort of penance for all of the destruction he'd wrought in his previous life.

The yoga class was taking place at a local gym. Aria had been a few times before, she told Steve. Apparently the woman who ran the class was a middle-aged beta. Aria didn't seem to think she would be weird about having Captain America in her class. Hopefully no one would say anything.  Steve just really wanted to be left alone today. He didn't want attention from fans or the media.  Tony's guilt was unsettling and he wasn't up to having his picture taken at the moment.

When they stepped into the room the first thing Steve noticed was that there was no Alphas. It was mostly women and betas. He was one of three omegas in the room. "The class is very much full of suburban moms," Aria warned him in a whisper. "In case you couldn't tell."

Some people clearly noticed Steve and smiled him at shyly.

"Yeah, I can tell," whispered Steve bak.

They kept to the back of the class to attract the least attention. A woman clapped her hands and dragged everyone's attention to the front and the class began. The leader of the group was called Melinda and her voice was calming the instant she began talking. Aria and Steve sat down, listening as Melinda started talking about the importance of an 'aura', or something like that.

Admittedly, it was calming.  Steve enjoyed physical activity and using his body, and even if he wasn't sure he understood what a chakra was, he appreciated that Aria was more than a publicist.  She was a friend.  After the insanity of the conference over the weekend, Steve needed some peace and quiet, and yoga class turned out to be just the thing.  Working out was to Steve what building was to Tony.  Over the next few hours, both of them settled into a sort of peace.  Although Steve never quite forgot about the young omega auctionees, or Donner.  And Tony never forgot about the refugees in Wakanda who had had their lives ended by a rocket that bore his family name.


	22. Ghosts of the Past

Tony was, in his own way, something of a homebody.  He liked people, and parties, but he preferred when the parties were at his house and he could nip down to the lab if an idea struck him.  In college, he had probably spent more time in the robotics lab than his dorm.

He was grateful to Aria for taking Steve off his hands.  Steve was attractive, his smell tantalizing. His blue eyes were incredible expressive.  Tony didn't need that kind of distraction. With Steve out of the picture, he could work away to his heart's (arc's) content.

The issue wasn't really getting the suit to come to him, but to not cream him when it did.  Tony built rockets; he was great at making things go from point A to point B. But now that he was point B, he didn't really want the thing in question to explode on impact.

The other issue was getting the plates to interlock correctly.  The larger plates, such as the seams on the torso, were easy. But the tinier ones, like on the gauntlets, were damned near impossible, especially since they were trying to interlock while moving through the air or across the floor.  And on top of that, Tony didn't want to get pinched. He was fairly committed to being Iron Man, but not enough that he was willing to have his dick accidentally clamped.

The frustrating thing was that the man behind Iron Man was... well, a man.  Tony was human and he hated himself for it. He got hungry, thirsty, tired; he had to take bathroom breaks, had to occasionally stop working because his fingers cramped.  This was part of the appeal of cocaine; it let him work harder, faster, and longer. He had heard that a lot of geniuses and great figures took amphetamines and that didn't surprise him one bit.  Tony wasn't above occasionally taking a handful of Adderall to help himself work better.

Alcohol, his one true love, drug-wise, may not have made him more productive, but it had another benefit.  It helped numb him, which he needed, desperately, because you could only have pieces of heavy armor slam into your body so many times before he became unbearable.  Or at least, that's what Tony told himself as he did Test 14, and the armor locked itself together before even getting to him, and then slamming him into the concrete wall.  His head bounced against the stone and he felt momentarily dizzy, like he might pass out. But he didn't. He swayed, then leaned down to pick up Iron Man (the shell of Iron Man) up from under his arms, like he was a passed-out lush and Tony was trying to drag him home.

This: getting bruised, dragging around heavy things... this was better than sitting around doing nothing.  Sitting around thinking about the attack in Wakanda. Better than sitting around on his ass in his mansion, watching the news, watching as yet another one of his fucking missiles killed people, sitting there and watching, detached, maybe mindlessly tuning a guitar or eating a burger like a stupid--

_"So... I guess the food wasn't that great, huh?" said Happy awkwardly as Tony wolfed down the burger.  Tony grunted in reply, not pausing. His hunger was ravenous, animalistic. Happy focused on driving, clearly uncomfortable.  By the time they were pulling up to the front entrance of Stark Industries, Tony had managed to finish off everything but the cola and one burger.  He'd eaten the other two burgers and two large fries and a shake. Outside, the low, modern glass-and-steel entrance was largely blocked by reporters.  The landscaping was new, marigolds lining the wide concrete path to the entrance, but the large modern sculpture out front was still there, gleaming in the sunlight._

_Happy put the car in park and held out a hand, offering to take the fast food bag from Tony._

_Tony took a deep, steadying breath.  "I'm taking the burger," he informed Happy._

_"Sure," said Happy.  He exited the car and opened the door for Tony and Pepper.  Immediately, there was a barrage of questions, cameras, and microphones as Tony stood; a familiar face appeared at the front of the crowd._

_"Tony, my boy!"_

_"Obie!"_

_Obadiah slung an arm around Tony's shoulders and placed a hand on his chest; Tony's muscles tensed automatically with discomfort, unfamiliar with friendly touch, his chest still overly sensitive.  But on the outside, Tony was all smiles, as was Obadiah. With one arm in the sling and the other pinned to his side by Obadiah, he settled for returning the sideways hug by tapping his head on Obadiah's torso.  
_

_Tony had known Obadiah Stane, his father's business partner, for his entire life; Obadiah was like a second father to him.  A head taller than Tony, sporting a salt-and-pepper beard, Obadiah looked the every bit the part of a paternal figure. He guided Tony up the path, through the mob of reporters; Happy and Pepper followed, Happy keeping a hand on Pepper's arm and blocking her from the cameras.  Not that he needed to. Most of the attention was focused on Tony, who was smiling (without showing any teeth) and laughing and shaking hands. "Everyone in... in, in, in, all questions will be answered, yes, I'm alive, thank you..." Tony was saying, walking in, Obadiah's arm still tightly around him.  Tony was letting Obadiah guide him, showing him off like a prize dog._

_"Hey, look who it is!  Tony's back! Yeah, there he is..."_

_"Thank you, thank you, yes, it's me, in the flesh, alive and kicking..."_

_"You had to get a cheeseburger, huh?  Come on..."_

_"You know me, Obes... Lemme through, excuse me..."_

_Trailed with a pack of excited, curious, jostling news agencies, Tony and Obadiah led them into the main conference room that doubled as a sometimes banquet hall.  Despite the size, the room was quickly filled to capacity; the reporters were all standing, trying to get a good picture of Tony, who was letting Obadiah guide him to the podium to speak._

_Tony stood there and froze for a moment.  Hundreds of eyes were staring. He regretted the amount of food he'd had in the car.  Obadiah's arm was still lying heavy over his shoulders. He was like a deer in headlights._

_Obadiah leaned forward.  "Everyone... thank you for your time, thank you for your well wishes... we're thrilled to have Tony back with us, obviously, I can't tell you how--"_

_"Hey, can I say something?" demanded Tony._

_The room was quiet in an instant, everyone straining to hear him._

_Tony paused.  He was breathing harder than he wished he had to, winded, panicking.  "Can we... let's all sit down, okay? Just... sit... floor is fine... it's, you know, less... less formal, better that way..."  Tony slithered to the floor suddenly, back against the podium. Obadiah looked alarmed; Tony flopping to the floor in front of the news was not good for their image._

_Tony didn't seem to care.  The reporters obediently sat.  The room took on the weird air of a classroom with everyone seated on the floor; even Obadiah sat next to Tony, watching as he dug into the fast food bag and began unwrapping another cheeseburger._

_"It's good to see you," said Tony, looking at Obadiah with a look of almost love._

_Obadiah smiled.  "Yeah, it's good to see you too, Tony."_

_"This is good stuff," said Tony, looking down at the burger and taking a bite.  Several cameras went off. Everyone was still quiet, fascinated. Time spooled out as Tony sat there, quietly eating, pausing occasionally to stare down that the burger.  The cheese was the same color as the marigolds outside._

_"You know, my dad... my dad was a great man.  And I didn't get to know him... as an adult... I didn't get to say good-bye to him... I didn't get to say good-bye to my father," said Tony, looking at at Obadiah.  He looked back at the swarm reporters. The only sound in the room was the buzz of the air conditioner and the occasional camera's shutter click. "I wish I could talk to him now.  Ask him... ask him how he felt about all this..." Tony gestured with the burger. "Whether he was proud of me, of us, of the company and the direction it's gone in... if he had any doubts or misgivings, if he was confident that we're doing is really for the greater good.  Yeah. ...I don't know."_

_Obadiah stared at Tony, patting his good shoulder comfortingly, his expression both worried and confused.  The room looked like a silent concert, except instead of holding up lighters, all the reporters were holding up tape recorders._

_"You know our company motto is... changing the world for a better future.  We call ourselves a defense company and we produce products that are supposed to defend our citizens... defend and protect the young men and woman we send overseas to fight for our country.  And I went over there and I saw those soldiers killed by the same weapons I created because I thought I was doing the right thing--"_

_"Okay, Tony," said Obadiah, looking alarmed._

_"--but I realized I've never been held accountable or responsible for my actions and that I've been fueling the fire, been creating the conflict I thought I was ending, and that... the system we have, this system of creating weapons and unleashing them into the world, has... yeah, zero accountability, no checks, no balances... and it's dangerous, it's amoral and it's wrong... maybe war was different for my dad in his time, I don't know.  But now that I've seen what my weapons do, I can't, in good conscience--"_

_"Okay, Tony, thank you," said Obadiah, trying to cut him off._

_"--do this anymore.  So, as CEO of Stark Industries, effective immediately, we're shutting down all weapons manufacturing divisions--"_

_The room erupted into hysteria._

_"Mr. Stark, how many jobs will this cost the company?"_

_"What about your shareholders?"_

_"Which weapons were terrorists using?"_

_Tony ignored them, plowing on with his speech.  "--until I can figure out what direction I want to steer us, what I'm comfortable with and what's going to best serve America, her interests, and the men and women who are willing to sacrifice their lives for her.  Thank you."_

_Having finished, he began eating what remained of the burger.  Obadiah looked like Tony had just committed seppuku in front of everyone._

_"Okay, well, we need to talk about this, obviously, Tony just got back, that's the real take-away here, Tony's back and he's doing great, obviously he's in shock but he's going to be fine--" Obadiah was saying, already trying to do damage control._

_Tony braced his back against the podium and rose to his feet unsteadily; Obadiah grabbed him by the bad shoulder and he cringed noticeably, letting Obadiah steer him toward the back of the room._

_"Miss Potts--" Agent Coulson was back, but Obadiah stormed by, grabbed Happy, who grabbed Pepper, and she was dragged out of the room trailed by a mob of reporters._

_They holed up in the energy core of Stark Industries, an industrial-looking room that was only accessible using a keycard.  Obadiah had dragged them in. Finally having gotten away from his grip, Tony staggered forward and put his hands on the railing to stare at the two-story arc reactor housing in the room, mesmerized._

_"Tony," said Obadiah.  "What the hell was that?"_

_"Wastebasket," said Tony._

_"Great... that was just great, Tony, went really well..." growled Obadiah, pulling a cigar out of his pocket and lighting it.  He puffed away furiously._

_"Wastebasket," repeated Tony._

_Obadiah found a trash can on the floor and held it out to Tony, who took it and promptly threw up.  He watched him vomiting unsympathetically._

_"Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you just caused me?"_

_"Yeah, I created a pretty big shitstorm, didn't I?"_

_"Shitstorm is an understatement, Tony!  You know how much money we're poised to lose?  You know how many points our stocks are going to drop?"_

_"I dunno... forty, fifty?  Can you really put a price of people's lives?"_

_"Yes, Tony!  Yes! You can!  That's what we do, we're a weapons company!  We make weapons!"_

_"It's blood money.  It's wrong," said Tony firmly.  "Dad wouldn't have wanted his legacy to be a body count."_

_"Howard would have wanted us to keep fighting the good fight," replied Obadiah, pacing angrily, gesturing with his cigar.  "What we do helps maintain peace, Tony. You know that. It's messy but it works, how much worse do you think the world would be without us, huh?  You want to send soldiers over there to defend themselves with their fists?"_

_"We're not doing good enough.  We need to be better, Obie." Tony leaned on the railing that separated the arc reactor from the main floor.  "Maybe we oughta redirect our focus... I dunno, clean energy or something..."_

_"Oh, you wanna build arc reactors now?  Huh? Why stop there? Why not try to build engines that run on gumdrops and pinwheels and good will toward men?  Tony, the arc reactor isn't cost effective, the amount of palladium it requires to-- okay, let me see it."_

_"What?"  Tony went pale._

_"The thing in your chest.  Let me see it," said Obadiah, throwing an arm around Tony's shoulders and pointing to his chest with the cigar.  Tony's whole body went completely stiff when the cigar was pointed at him._

_"D-did Rhodey tell you?"_

_"Never mind.  Let me see it."_

_Tony's hands went up.  They were trembling visibly.  He pushed his tie aside and began undoing the buttons of his shirt, and a moment later, he was pulling down the cloth, exposing the small disk in his chest._

_Obadiah reached out and touched it softly with a couple of fingers, cigar held between them.  Tony shuddered violently; he was on the verge of a meltdown. Having someone touch it... the rich, warm smell of the smoke... Tony wanted to scream but he remained stock-still, shaking.  Obadiah's fingers trailed down it slowly, hypnotically. Then he seemed to snap out of it._

_"Okay," said Obadiah, quietly, beginning to button Tony's shirt back up for him.  "Tony... listen to me... I've known you since you were a baby. Me and you are a team, just like me and your father.  We're family. Together we can accomplish just about anything. But I need you to work with me, Tony. I need to know you're on my side."_

_"I'm sorry," said Tony quietly.  "I'm sorry I sprung that on you, but if I'd asked you would've said no."_

_"Damn right I would've said no.  That was stupid and impulsive and it's going to give me an ulcer to fix it.  Not to mention a lot of paperwork. No more surprises, okay, Tony? I need to you trust me, and let me handle things.  That's what your father would've wanted. Okay?"_

_Tony nodded.  "Okay."_

_"Now, why don't you go home and lie low for a while, and let me take the heat."_

_"Thanks, Obie."_

_"How about this.  You go home and rest, and I'll come by later tonight with some pizza.  We can watch a movie and relax. Yeah?"_

_"Yeah," agreed Tony, nodding._

_Obadiah patted him on the back.  "Alright... good boy. Hogan, take him home, will you?"  Obadiah stuck the cigar back into his mouth and stalked out of the room with a look of grim determination._

Tony blinked.

He didn't realize he had frozen, gotten lost in the memory, until the lights flickered in the lab.  He looked around. The sun had set and JARVIS was turning on the lights for him. Tony realized his music had stopped playing at some point; maybe he'd told JARVIS to stop it; the only sound was his heavy, ragged breathing.  His hackles were spiked and had been for a while; the back of his neck ached from the muscles being tensed for so long.

He reached up to touch his chest, check the reactor.  It was still there, of course. His hands were shaking.  His heart was pounding. Had he just had a panic attack? Entirely possible.  How much time had passed? All day, from the looks of it. He wasn't high anymore; he felt weary, his muscles stiff.

"JARVIS?" he asked, a crack of uneasiness in his house.

"Yes, sir?"

"Am I a good person?"

"I'm only a computer program and therefore a moral relativist, so I cannot determine if you are good without a basis for comparison," replied JARVIS.

"I hate when you get all philosophical on my ass.  Why can't you just tell me what I want to hear?"grumbled Tony.

"Very well.  Yes, you are a good person."

Tony sighed.  It didn't really mean much, coming from JARVIS.  Maybe if it had been Jarvis...

"Take the rest of the night off, Jarv.  I'm done for now," said Tony, sounding exhausted.  He staggered over to the door, leaving the disassembled suit pieces and tools all over the shop floor, feeling wrung-out and ready to crash.  His earlier excitement at Steve being gone was replaced for a desperate need to hold and be held by his omega, who, thankfully, knew exactly how confusing and gritty and morally ambiguous war could be.

* * *

Steve had been out for the better part of the day.

They went out for coffee after yoga. Steve had to admit, he _did_ feel more relaxed, and it had been interesting to find out just how flexible he really was. When he'd managed to get both of his feet behind the back of his head Aria had just rolled her eyes at him fondly.  He couldn't, however, touch his elbows together; the muscles in his arms prevented that.  Aria had laughed.

They went to a small, local cafe so thankfully no one had stopped them to ask for a selfie or autograph. Steve was just in gym leggings and a hoodie. He wasn't really looking his best. And he wasn't really in the mood for interacting with strangers. He was just glad to hang out with Aria and chat about nothing.

They stopped by a Thai takeaway and picked up food on the way home. Steve hoped that if he pandered to Tony's favourite foods that that might up his chances of getting him to eat something.  He devoured a container of pad thai noodles on the drive home; as always, his metabolism demanded constant fuel.

"So... meeting with the Council in two days to get your ankles all freed up. Book a holiday for your anniversary. Saturday Night Live in a few weeks and an interview with Banksy within the next week, okay?" Aria said, railing off a list before Steve got out of the car. "You got it?"

"I got it." Holiday hunting would be a nice thing for Steve to get into. He needed something get his head out of that conference. He was still somewhat horrified by the whole experience. "Thanks Aria."

"It's what you pay me for," she shrugged. "Now get in there before the rest of your noodles go cold." Aria smiled  lightly and punched his arm with no real force behind it.

"Night Aria," Steve told her, returning the smile.

"Na-night Stevie. Now move your ass."

Steve found Tony passed out on the sofa. Maybe he'd been heading upstairs, but he clearly hadn't made it the whole way. Steve sighed and went to put the food in the fridge before he gently scooped Tony up. The Alpha mumbled something Steve couldn't understand, but didn't really wake. He frowned as he looked down at him, spotting a few bruises to accompany the one on the back of his head from earlier. Tony had carried on working, then. Steve carried him upstairs and moved to set Tony down on their bed. He fetched a damp towel and wiped away the evidence of his work, the grime and grease from the workstation.

Once he was certain that Tony was settled and not actually waking up he headed back downstairs to grab his portion of the Thai food. He heated it up and ate it whilst checking out a show named _Bob's Burgers_ that Clint had recommended as a 'priority view'. Steve wasn't sure the sense of humor was really for him. It was also hard for him to concentrate; he was mainly worrying about Tony. Worrying about the fact that there was _cocaine_ in the house and he'd had no goddamn idea.

What else didn't he know about? What other means did Tony have of hurting himself in the house?

His phone buzzed with a text from Aria.

_ > Oh, and I almost forgot. I got you an appointment for tomorrow night, with a guy. I'll give you the address. AT _

_ > With a 'guy'? SR _

_ > He deals with PTSD. Please just try it Steve. It's like a half an hour drive from your house. AT _

Steve sighed and texted back saying he would go. It felt so ridiculous... him getting help when _Tony_ was the one who had taken class-A drugs and then passed out after staying up for almost an entire day. _Tony_ was the one who should be going to a doctor...not that that meant Steve shouldn't, but his predicament felt a lot less urgent.  He didn't have PTSD and if he did, it didn't matter because the war was over and had been for nearly two-- no, wait, _sixty-six_ \-- years.

Tony needed help and if he carried on like this he might make himself permanently sick, or worse.

Sometimes Steve felt acutely aware of the fact that Tony was older and going to die first.  Sure, he wasn't working for SHIELD anymore but they wanted regular blood samples so they could try and figure out if he _could_ even actually age.  The doctor who he'd seen last had probably been joking when he told Steve he might be immortal, but Steve had not found it funny.  That was a chilling thought. Living forever sounded very lonely. Steve had outlived all his friends once and was not keen to ever repeat the experience. But he knew he would at least one more time.

When he went back upstairs he found Tony still passed out and/or sleep. Steve imagined he would be that way until morning at least.

Steve didn't think he could sleep though. So he went to draw. He drew in the walls of his designated 'drawing room' until around two in the morning. He drew a picture of Dum Dum with his stupid hat on because he'd been missing the man a lot recently. Half way through a drawing of Falsworth Steve called it quits as his eyes kept threatening to fall shut.

He checked Tony's temperature before he went to bed. He felt a little clammy, but there was no warning signs, no indication he was in dire straits.  Steve touched his temple; there were a few stray silver hairs there.  They played into Steve's worries about mortality and the fragility of human life.

Steve finally put himself to bed, curled towards Tony under the sheets but not actually touching him. He didn't want to wake him up.

Steve woke at seven am. He checked Tony's temperature again. Then he fetched him a glass of water and left it by the bedside, using the glass to hold down a note that read _: Take away in the fridge. x_

"Jarvis, please inform me when Tony wakes up," Steve told the AI as he headed down the spiral staircase in his running gear.

"Certainly, Captain."

Tony woke in his bed, not sure how he'd gotten there or for how long he'd been sleeping.  Groggily, he rolled over to reach for Steve, but Steve's spot was empty. He checked the bedstand automatically.  Sure enough, there was one of Steve's curt little love notes.

The effects of the previous day's work were evident the moment Tony stood up.  He groaned, muscles stiff and cramped. He stretched and his joints popped, especially the right shoulder he'd dislocated so many times in the past.  He looked at the note again; Steve's handwriting was small and neat and old-fashioned. No doubt, thought Tony with a stab of annoyance, that Steve was probably working out again.

Tony perpetually dated women much, much younger than him, and many were athletes or models with ridiculous work-out schedules and dietary restrictions.  Steve took the cake, though. The guy was... well, perfect. That's what Dad had always said, and Tony begrudgingly recognized that his father was correct.  Steve was, physically, perfect. He was like a hummingbird, in constant motion and constantly eating to keep up with his metabolism. Tony was only forty but sometimes, Steve made him feel old.  Which was even more ridiculous when you considered that Steve had been born before "The Simpsons," before credit cards, before the moon landing, before the Statue of Liberty had turned green... Steve was a century old.  Steve was the oldest person Tony had ever been with.

"JARVIS, update me," said Tony, still popping his joints as he walked blearily into the shower.

"Miss Potts is at a judicial hearing regarding Mr. Hammer's attack on your Expo," said JARVIS as he began running steaming hot water.  "Captain Rogers is on a run on the beach and I have informed him that you are awake. Your diplomatic meeting with King T'Chaka is still on schedule for this Friday."

"Can you divert some of the funds from the Maria Stark foundation to the refugees in northern Wakanda?" asked Tony as he stepped into the shower.

"Certainly.  Would sixteen percent assuage your conscience?"

"Oh, shut up, JARVIS.  What would you know about human guilt, anyway?"

"Only that you feel quite a lot of it, sir."

"Well, I did design, build, test, and personally give the sales pitch for the Ambassador IV, and now civilians are dead because of me, so... yeah, I think feeling a lot of guilt is pretty normal, given the circumstances," said Tony, lathering up his hair.

"Colonel Rhodes suggested a night out.  He seems concerned."

"Tell him I'm free Wednesday."

"You have a meeting with Stark Industries' marketing research team on Wednesday."

"Cancel it."

"Shall I tell Miss Potts you are rescheduling again?"

"...yeah, you be my messenger.  She'll kill me if I tell her myself.  I think this'll be the third time I blew off that meeting..."

Steve had been running for about an hour when he got a text from JARVIS (it was still strange getting messages from an AI, but he was slowly getting used to it). He'd turned back, taking a quicker pace and a shorter route so it would only take him half an hour to get home. It was still so early that no one else was out on the beach, thankfully. And it was an overcast day, the sun barely making itself known through the clouds.

When he got in he could hear the shower going upstairs. Steve certainly needed one himself. He took the steps two at a time, still buzzing from his run as he stepped into their bedroom. He wasn't sure what mood he'd find Tony. There was no emotion so extreme that was pushing through into Steve's conscience, but that didn't mean Tony was necessarily feeling better than he was. Steve hadn't actually seen him awake for over twelve hours, since he left for yoga with Aria. He just certainly hoped the other wasn't going to use any drugs again today... Steve wasn't sure he could really deal with that.

"Tony?" Steve stuck his head into the bathroom to find the other in the shower. He stepped in, the air damp with steam from the spray. Tony always liked the shower on hot. He could still see the bruises from Tony's work and sighed internally. "Mind if I join?"

Tony looked over his shoulder; he'd been in the middle of singing "Carry on my Wayward Son," loudly.

Steve was in running clothes, the faintest gleam of sweat on him.  Still looking magnificent, as always.

"Please do," said Tony with a small smile.  "I missed you yesterday. Have you looked at our schedules?  They're bananas. And I'm not even talking about birthday plans or anniversary plans or anything... I got something good planned for our anniversary, by the way."

Tony looked down and drew a heart in the fog on his arc reactor, then looked up at Steve with a grin, watching him peel off his workout clothes.

"And we have to see the security council to get our feet freed up," Steve hummed as he pulled off his top and dropped it on the floor before letting the rest of his clothes follow. He paused when Tony drew the heart in the glass and smiled before moving to get into the shower with him. "I was hoping we might be able to go away somewhere," he said, reaching up to wipe a line of soap suds from Tony's forehead. "Aria found a cute place in Sweden. It has these cabins in the woods, all decked out, for couples and stuff."

One of them had had an actual waterfall that tumbled down into a swimming pool. The resort had certainly looked stunning but Steve was also aware it was probably nothing Tony hadn't seen before...

Tony forced a smile, trying to look excited.  He didn't want to trouble Steve with the whole Wakanda thing.  Steve treated every little injustice in the world like it was a personal insult, and also... Tony didn't want Steve to see him like that.  Steve had been unfrozen after Tony's turnaround. Steve had never known Tony as a war profiteer and Tony didn't want Steve to know about that side of him, or at least, not know any more than he had to.  

The past was past. Tony's "Merchant of Death" title still haunted him but he'd rather try to ignore it. As if it were a ghost whose power came from acknowledgement.

He went back to singing "Carry on my Wayward Son" as he grabbed the conditioner.

The song sounded familiar but Steve couldn't name it.  "Foreigner?" guessed Steve

"No.  Try again."

"Um... Boston?"

"It's Kansas, Steve," said Tony in exasperation.  "Seriously, we've been over this.  Why can't you remember any band names?"

"I'm surprised you remember yesterday at all." His words didn't have any bite to them. They were just simple and  honest.   "Oh, Rhodey to ask me to do some speeches for military graduates. It was nice of him," he said with a small but genuine smile before he reached over for the soap.

"...coke doesn't affect memory, Steve," said Tony patiently.  He looked down at the tracker on his ankle. "I can't wait to get this thing off.  I feel like I'm an endangered panda or something. ...you know pandas are endangered now, right?  Like, super-endangered. Anyways, yeah, Sweden is okay. I was thinking England. You could see some of your old pals that are still..."  Tony trailed off. Steve didn't have many of his old war friends left.

Tony plucked the soap away from Steve.  "Let me," he offered, gently turning Steve around and beginning to massage his back.  "...did you explain to Rhodey how much you _hate_ giving speeches?" he asked teasingly, his hands sliding down the curve of Steve's back.  He found Steve's ass and gave it a squeeze. Firm, like the rest of him. Tony slid one arm around Steve, pressing his front to Steve's back, reaching between his legs with the other hand to play with his balls.  Their bodies were both still slippery with soap (Steve had a fondness for overly sweet, fruit-flavored things, Tony had noticed) but Tony was less interested in actual washing at the moment.

"Right." Steve guessed he really didn't know anything about drugs. He had never had reason to; now that he'd had the serum, most drugs had little or no effect on him and wore on too rapidly to be of any real use. "I thought a lot of stuff was endangered now, because...to quote Clint,  _humans as assholes_." He said, creating little quotation marks in the air. He kind of felt bad for not getting the environment stuff so much. The concept of recycling was wild to him; society wasted so much compared to the forties, and the _Depression_ , it was wild. Everything was disposable; no one fixed things anymore.  They just got new things.  And admittedly, it was all shockingly convenient, the one-time-use culture of the 21st century.

Steve sighed quietly as Tony's hands dipped down his back, and then lower. He reminded himself that he was supposed to be mad at Tony but as soon as the man's hands dipped down to his ass and beyond Steve couldn't really find himself to be mad at Tony right now. "Tony..." Steve sighed, tilting his head back onto Tony's shoulder.  "You know," he said, not managing to sound annoyed at all. "You really shouldn't be taking coke."

"Aw, c'mon, I only take it a couple of times a year.  It's no biggie," purred Tony, gently rolling Steve's testicles around in his hand.  He could feel Steve getting erect.

"The fact that you feel a need to take it all worries me," Steve said frankly. "You're brilliant all by yourself. You don't need coke to fix your suit Tony. The answers in your head somewhere."

"I just feel like I'm _so close_ to a breakthrough on the Mark VII... look, if it bothers you that much, I won't take it again... at least, not for a while."  He kissed Steve's shoulder.

"...how did you turn me into such a sap?" he asked in amazement. 

Steve turned around and kissed Tony's forehead. "And you _are_ a sap. I think, personally, that you've always been a sap."

"No, you definitely ruined me," said Tony, with a grin.

Tony honestly wondered at how he managed to stay so in love with Steve.  The average length of a relationship for Tony was a handful of months. And yet, they were ten months into being bonded and... well, there had been that terrible two and half months, and Yemen... but aside from that... aside from that, as they approached a year, Tony still feel a magnetic pull toward his mate.

Well, that was the difference between pair-bonding and regular old dating, he supposed.

Suddenly his mind drifted to Bucky.  He and Steve had surely felt something like this toward each other, hadn't they?  And did they still?

"...only Alphas can distance bonds," said Tony quietly.  "...did Bucky do that? Or are you two still...?"

Since Bucky had gone into cryo, Tony had felt none of the other man's presence, and he was thankful for it.  The idea of being with an Alpha man made his skin crawl and made his mind go to a dark place, back to that cave in Afghanistan, where he'd been called a spade and treated like one.  Those were memories he preferred to keep stored very, very, very deep.

His erection flagged at the mention of Bucky and Steve sighed. "Please don't mention him when you're..."

"Sorry, sorry, bad timing.  But seriously.  Are you you two still...?"

He turned his head to look at Tony, turning a little in his hold. "No. I mean-- I don't know. I can't tell because there was barely any of him there, you know? Maybe he had distanced from me or maybe he just didn't have enough real emotions for me to actually ever feel.  His brain's all messed up and he doesn't really seem to know where he is or what's going on.  But now he's...asleep." _Unconscious_. "So it doesn't really...." _You put him there._ "Matter."

Steve was silent for a moment, and then said, "So.  You're building a new suit?  Another one?  Do you really need seven of 'em?"

"Yeah," said Tony, seizing onto the topic of his suits eagerly.  "I'm gonna build a whole army, Steve.  Wait n' see."

"You could slow down.  There's no timeline on this.  You'll figure it out eventually; the answers are in your head.  You won't find 'em if you keep getting knocked around by big pieces of metal."

"I _know_ the answers are in my head... I just hate waiting," whined Tony impatiently.  He swiped Steve away from his forehead. "And I wasn't a sap until I met you. You ruined me, Rogers.  You and your incredible, all-American omega body."

His hand snaked down between Steve's legs again.

"Sometimes waiting is part of the process," Steve breathed. "And I'm so sorry." He grinned and leaned down, their noses just brushing. "You have my sincerest apologies, for 'ruining' you. But..." he ducked his head down, whispering in Tony's ear. "You certainly ruined _my_ all-American innocence, so let's call it even."

He squirmed a little when Tony's hand slipped back down, his thighs shiny with soap.

"Did you know that the Greeks thought orchids looked like testicles?" asked Tony suddenly.  "...I was reading about them online. Orchids, I mean. Not Greeks or testicles. ...I'm just gonna shut up now."  He wriggled against Steve's leg, his hand exploring, stroking Steve's entrance, tracing the length of his shaft. "...you like me, right?  I mean, you think I'm a good person?" asked Tony suddenly. Maybe it was unfair of him to ask that while touching Steve, but he needed to hear it.

Having someone as wholesome as Captain America tell you that you were a good person, having someone like Steve actually be okay with touching your scarred body... that made Tony feel a lot better about himself.

Of course, it's not like Steve was a saint.  Tony had seem him fight and kill and lose his temper plenty of times.  But Tony had had Steve's wholesome image ingrained into his mind since he was a child and deep down he would always think of Steve as that straight-backed guy standing patriotically in the poster above his bed.

Steve let out a quiet sound as Tony stroked at him and teased at his entrance. He squirmed again, wishing Tony would just _do_ something. "I think you're a good person," Steve assured him and ducked his head lower to press a kiss to Tony's collarbone. "With a good heart. I drew you a picture to prove it, remember?  I know you sometimes doubt that." Steve whispered and nuzzled against his jaw, his eyes slipping shut. "I wish you wouldn't."

"Wanna hurry up and rinse off so I can ruin your all-American innocence again?" offered Tony, stroking the inner part of Steve's thigh.  "...then I thought we could, uh, call that lady whose card Piper gave us. Just get the ball rolling."

He found his mind drifting.

Was Piper happy?  Eric didn't seem like such a bad guy, but Piper was just a kid... then again... their age difference was probably about the same as Tony and Steve's.  Tony wondered what Piper had felt when they bonded. If she had liked it, or if she had just let him do it, or if she'd fought and cried...

"Yes. Sure," Steve agreed, although he was a bit too distracted by Tony's touches to really register what he was saying. He swallowed and moved under the spray, letting the water wash out the rest of the soap from his hair.

Tony shoved his thoughts aside and wrapped his arms around Steve, nosing his chest, needing his warmth and his closeness.  Steve made Tony feel a lot of emotions he'd never had to deal with. In particular, uneasiness and uncertainty. Steve made Tony want to be a better person and for once, Tony felt challenged.

Designing and building things came naturally to him, but Steve's moral compass... Tony couldn't compete with that.

He nosed Steve's wet skin, swaying with him in the shower.

"...I'm sorry my brain's going in all directions.  The... did you hear the story on the news? About that refugee camp in Wakanda?  It's got me all shook up. ...can we go cuddle in bed?" asked Tony plaintively. "I don't want to talk about it," he added.  "I just want me and you to... spend some time together."

"I read about it," Steve said quietly.

When Tony clung to him he simply wound an arm around his shoulders and let his other hand run through the other's wet hair. Steve sighed gently and rested his head atop of Tony's briefly, letting his eyes slip shut as he savoured the moment. He could fell Tony's own sorrow in his chest and wished he could get rid of it for him.

And then he pulled back with a small nod. "Time together. Cuddling. You got it," he told him. He turned the shower off and then grabbed them towels. Steve gently dried Tony off before drying himself too as best he could. Then they backed away towards the bed, Tony's ghosts still following them, the success of the convention overshadowed by lives lost, each one a grim reminder that their work was far from done.


	23. Worth It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for following us through part 3! Next week begins Part 4: Project Eighty-Four.
> 
> This is your last chance to submit naming ideas for OR parts 1-4. 
> 
> Sappho and I are looking forward to bringing you guys more stony, stucky, A/o shenanigans and thank you again for your support and encouragement. We unapologetically present you with a graphic rimming scene in this final chapter. - Apollo

Tony stepped out of the shower and let Steve towel him off.

There was no need to get dressed in anything. Steve led him into the master bedroom, sat down on the mattress, and held out a hand to Tony. "Do you want me to take your mind off it?"

Tony had quietly, discreetly, and rather guiltily looked up one of Frond's books: "The Omega Mind."  It had been shockingly informative. Frond-- _Dr._ Frond-- was a psychologist.  The basis of her work was that omegas liked and, indeed, _wanted_ to serve and nurture their Alphas, just as their Alphas wanted to support, direct, and protect them.  That was instinct. Frond's books were written in a clinical fashion, and without knowing the sort of things she supported, such as forced submission, they were actually very convincing.

Since perusing her work, Tony couldn't get it off his mind.  He ordered Steve around all the time, but then again, he also ordered around Happy and Pepper (who were betas), and even Rhodey (who was an Alpha and more dominant than Tony was).

But even if he never made another demand or request, the fact remained that Steve acted just as Frond's book predicted.  He served Tony without thinking, bringing him things, making sure he ate... he'd gotten Tony take-out, hadn't he? He'd come home from running when Tony was awake, and here he was, toweling Tony off with a look of intense concentration, offering to _distract_ him...

"Hey.  Steve."  Tony sat on the bed next to Steve and wrapped his arms around him.  "You don't always gotta... you know. You know that, right?"

Guiltily, he thought about how hot he'd thought it was when Steve wore that damned collar.

Steve raised an eyebrow.  Tony was suddenly acting weird. He'd gone from teasing Steve in the shower to telling them they...didn't have to have sex? This was confusing. He wasn't sure what Tony really wanted. "Hey," he said softly and turned to face Tony, letting their naked legs tangled together comfortably. "What are you thinking about; I can practically see the cogs turning in there," he tried to joke with a half smile as he reached up to push Tony's damp hair from his forehead.

Tony leaned forward and gently kissed the corner of Steve's mouth.  "It's okay to be selfish, too," he mumbled against Steve's mouth. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but... it doesn't have to be all about me."  He pulled away, grinning suddenly. "...see? You've ruined me. I never would have said anything that ridiculous a year ago. _Not about me_?"  He scoffed.  "Yeah, right."

"I don't offer to do stuff I don't wanna do. But you're upset and I wanna make you feel better; what's so wrong with that?" he asked, tilting his head a little. "It's not selfish for you have sex with me if you're in the mood for it, or need a distraction...if I want to too. And it's not like it won't be enjoyable for me too," Steve pointed out, raising a brow at him.  "I would never do anything you asked if I didn't want to." He could still feel Tony's unease pang in his own chest. "And you had a kind of... insane day yesterday, I think I'm allowed to be a little worried, right? Come on Tony, what's this really about?"

Tony let out a sigh and looked down, twisting his hands in his lap.  Tony was no good at talking about feelings and he hated it when his hands were idle.  If he wasn't working, then at least he liked to be turning a Rubik's cube or knitting (something he'd sworn Pepper, Steve, Happy, and Rhodey to secrecy).

"...Steve, everyone loves you.  They loved you before you were unfrozen.  You were like America's Queen of England... you were like the living embodiment of Uncle Sam or whatever.  You stood for everything this country is supposed to. You should read the stories about you... how you rescued hundreds of POWs, how you... in basic, they say some guy threw a grenade down and you threw yourself over it without even thinking.  You were this incredible, well-spoken, heroic son of a bitch. And then when you were unfrozen and came out as omega and now you're a big civil rights crusader... people _love_ you.  It's hard to be mated to someone like that.  At least if I were a normal guy, I would just feel ignored.  But being me, I feel judged. I made weapons, Steve, I killed about as many people as you saved.  Probably tens of thousands with my missiles, and Iron Man can't ever make that up, and people look at you and then look at me, and... I feel like I'm the bad guy.  Have you read all the articles about you crashing the AU conference? Hardly any of them even mentioned I was there, and none of them mentioned how I wore a collar, too."  Tony couldn't keep the bitterness out of the last part of his speech, because Steve had _no idea_ what it felt like to have something push against raised dander, to push the sensitive hairs into the back of his your neck like little needles.

He didn't bother saying any of the rest.  How everyone thought Steve was triple-bonded and how Tony felt like a loser who couldn't keep his omega in check or protect him, how he felt like Steve's side fuck, how much he resented Bucky, how hard monogamy was for him and how much he missed women, and how he hated how _right_ Frond and some of the Alphas at that convention were.  He hated that he was human and that he was Alpha and that he had instincts and desires that he couldn't turn off.

Ultimately Tony just hated not being Iron Man.  He was not truly Iron Man; he wasn't a robot, which he felt would be a lot better than being a person.

Steve was rather taken back by Tony's speech. He didn't know what to say for a moment. He sat there, stunned, as he stared at Tony. Steve blinked.

"I'm not just this great awesome guy Tony. That's not real. I'm just human. That's all I am. I've killed people as well as saved them...hell I've decapitated people with my shield more times than I've protected someone else with it," Steve said. "The media version of me isn't real. Just like it isn't of you. We've both done bad things, can't you see that?"

Discontent was rolling off of Tony in waves and Steve honestly didn't know how to make it better.

"You can't compare us. We're completely--" began Steve.

Tony decided in an instant he was done with the conversation and reached behind Steve's ear to press on his scent gland.  _That_ ought to shut him up.

 Steve's words died on his tongue as Tony's finger pressed at the back of his neck and his brain went offline. He reached up a hand to try and push Tony away so he could speak again but his hand flopped back down in his lap before it got half way between them. His breath was hitched and his pupils were blown wide.

Tony regarded Steve wearily.  Talking emotions took a lot out of him.  Steve was trembling slightly under his touch, eyes glazed, sitting quietly with his hands in his lap.  His head had tilted very, very slightly, giving Tony easier access to the spot behind his ear where the gland was.  Tony rolled his thumb over it, putting enough pressure on it to keep Steve quiet.

There wasn't, to Tony's knowledge, any equivalent on an Alpha's body that had quite the same effect.

"...Steve?" he ventured.  He was pretty sure Steve would be mad at him when he pulled away and stopped massaging behind Steve's ear, but for now, Steve looked completely out of it.  He didn't know how much Steve really understood. Currently Steve's overwhelming look was one of dopey compliance and his feeling was one of peace. It was like hypnosis.

Tony thought it was actually a little funny.  Steve was so against Tony getting drunk or high, and yet he practically had a "pure ecstasy" button planted right on his body.

"Steve?  You still in there?  ...you're not mad at me for shutting you off, right?" asked Tony.  "Sorry, I just hate emotional talks. I'd rather just have angry sex.  That's sort of my go-to method for dealing with negative feelings."

Steve heard Tony talking but he didn't really register it. As soon as Tony pressed that magical spot he was out of it. He was gone. Steve trembled a little, his lips parted... but he didn't manage to actually speak. The longer Tony pressed down the wetter he got between the legs and the more his dick began to thicken against his thigh.  It was like being in heat but instantaneously, all the more powerful because of how sudden it was.

When Tony rolled his thumb over the gland Steve let out a quiet whimper.

He probably would have told Tony 'that's not healthy' or 'we need to work on that.' But Steve couldn't speak, not coherently anyway... he'd cried out Tony's neck during sex before, begged him... but that was about it.  Trying to form anything intelligent or meaningful was beyond his capacity.

Steve was beginning to move forward towards Tony on the bed, his hands crawling closer to his Alpha because all he could think about now was pleasing him. And having Tony inside of him.

Yes.  That was what he wanted.

One of Steve's hands snaked over Tony's thigh, reaching between his legs.

Tony pulled his hand away from Steve's neck.  "Steve," he said, loudly.

Steve blinked.

The room reeked like desire, like sex.  Tony could smell the slick between Steve's legs.  But he couldn't just let Steve...

"Steve?" he repeated.

There were a lot of things that Dr. Frond and Eric and even Ron had said that Tony had to agreed with.  But one thing he didn't believe was that omegas had no agency, that they existed only to serve their Alphas.  Tony didn't think sex was a right. He wasn't like HYDRA, inducing heats, forcing Steve into it. And the dangerous thing about those two little spots behind each of Steve's ears, behind every omega's ears, was that they could be manipulated with them.

Tony had no interest in manipulating Steve.

"Hey," he said as Steve's eyes re-focused.

It took Steve a moment. He froze as his brain caught up with his body and rocked back onto his heels, his hands falling back into his lap as he retreated from Tony's crotch. His own wetness between his thighs almost surprised him. Steve blinked again.

"Hey," he said finally, his gaze focusing on Tony's face as he became of his surroundings once again.  "Please don't use that to stop me talking," Steve said, voice quiet and almost hurt as he looked away, gaze downcast onto the floor as a frown found its way onto his features.

After a moment, though, he looked up, and his expression was furious.  He met Tony's eyes.  There was not a trace of submission on his features.

"If you don't wanna talk anymore, then just goddamn say it, Tony."

"...okay," said Tony.  "...I should probably talk about this with my POSSV group, anyway."  He looked down guiltily. He felt like he'd almost proven to Steve exactly what he was trying to say.  That he was a bad person. That he had the ability to manipulate Steve, that he was an Alpha and Steve was a vulnerable omega and that it would always be that way.

"I get I can't understand your Alpha problems properly. Just like you can't understand all of mine...but even if I don't understand, I can still listen, you know? Sometimes it just helps to say things out loud. Just because I can't fix your problems doesn't mean you have to be alone with them," Steve said quietly, his blue eyes remaining fixed back onTony's face.

Tony reached out to Steve's neck, slowly, and put a hand over the back of Steve's neck, keeping his fingers away from the scent glands.  Gently, he stroked the short, soft hair on the back of Steve's head.

Steve swallowed when Tony reached out to touch him. The fingers brushing through his hair felt nice and made him shiver.

"It's a fucking dirty trick," said Tony after a moment.  "I read some of Frond's book. It's good. But... dangerous."  He scooted closer to Steve and rested his head on Steve's shoulder.  "I don't want to be an Alpha like Frond."

When Tony leaned his head against him Steve leaned his own atop of Tony's. He let his eyes slip shut and curled a hand around Tony's bicep. "You are _nothing_ like them," he assured him quietly. "You treat me like a person. Like an equal. People like Frond... she thinks she's better than me because of the way she was born and nothing more." He scoffed a little.  "I don't usually pull rank, you know? But it was kind of scary being in a room full of people who did not give a shit about the fact that I'd risked my life for this country. I don't usually blow my own trumpet but I _did_ kind of die for America during the war. I served my country and I went through shit and I saw hell and none of them even cared, just because of my status none of them even respected me for it. It was really hard."

"I know.  It was super fucked up," said Tony softly.  "And I felt like such an ass, just because I'm... one of them.  An Alpha, I mean. Steve, I never thought of omegas as lesser people but... I never really thought about them at all.  I ordered around omegas all the time, it was totally normal. Jarvis, you know, I ordered him around all the time. He called me _sir_ , and I was a kid!  Just because I was an Alpha."

"You can't help being born what you were, just like I can't." Steve insisted. He ran a hand down Tony's arm and then tangled their fingers together. "And you order, like, everyone around. When I first met you I have to admit I thought you were a bit of a jerk," he smiled faintly and nuzzled against Tony's cheek.

Tony sighed a little.  "I feel like all I ever do is try to make up for mistakes I didn't even know I was making.  Same thing with the whole weapons thing."  He stopped abruptly, as if he'd just remembered Wakanda all over again.  "...can I do you now? I seriously hate talking about this stuff.  I'm just making myself depressed."

Steve sighed and frowned a little at Tony's admission, not knowing what he could say to make it better. "Okay," Steve murmured and squeezed his hand. "But can you not do the neck thing straight away? Don't get me wrong, it feels great... but I kind of lose all coherent thought. I want to be _here_ with you, present. When you touch me there it's like I'm dreaming or something."

The corner of Tony's mouth twitched.  "You got it, Cap," he said quietly, with a sarcastic little two-fingered salute.  

Steve kissed the edge of his jaw. "How do you want me?" he whispered.

Tony gently put a hand on Steve's chest and pushed him back. "Lie back. Legs spread," he said, crawling onto the bed and kissing Steve's chest.  It rose and fell under Tony's lips and he was struck, all over again, with just how big Steve was, his pecs, his biceps... Steve looked like he could flip a car over.

Wait.  He could.  He'd done it; Tony had seen it.

The little salute made Steve roll his eyes fondly. He let Tony push him back, his head landing in the ridiculous amount of pillows. He parted his legs for Tony and smiled. "Spread how far?" He was teasing him, one hand moving down to run through Tony's hair. "Because I learned yesterday the serum made me pretty flexible." He'd known before that he could do the splits, but that was about all he'd been aware of. They didn't have stuff like yoga around back in the forties, especially out in a war zone.

Tony ran a finger down the faint, almost invisible treasure trail that ran from Steve's navel to his crotch, the golden hair light and thin and soft.

"Relax," he advised, scooting down between Steve's legs.

"I'm fine," the omega assured him. Tony pressing at the gland on his neck before meant he was already wet and practically ready. Steve wouldn't need much preparation like this.  "Don't treat me like I'm delicate," Steve whispered. "I'm not in the mood for it."

Tony ignored Steve and pulled his legs up over his shoulders, settling between his legs.  He leaned forward to lap at Steve's shaft; Steve's length twitched in response.

"Lift your hips," commanded Tony, hitching Steve's hips a little higher up on his shoulders.  He'd done this hundreds of times with women but it was rather different with Steve.

He ran his tongue over Steve's balls; they tightened a little.  Experimentally, Tony pulled them into his mouth gently, running his tongue over Steve's sack.  Steve squirmed under him, body tense, clearly trying not to buck up.

Tony dipped down and ran his tongue over Steve's entrance.  Steve was still slick, and his wetness tasted not at all dissimilar to a woman's; Tony tugged Steve a little closer and began lapping at his hole, closing his eyes contentedly as he ate Steve out.

Steve had heard about this being done before but he'd never expected it, or at least, never felt owed it. But it felt _good_. Well, everything Tony did with his mouth felt good, that was a fact. But this felt...

Steve let out a high pitched sound that bubbled up from the back of his throat as Tony teased at his most intimate area. He was fully hard by this point, his erection shiny with Tony's spit and curved against his stomach.

As Tony's tongue pressed inside Steve tilted his head back a soft _oh_ , squirming a little at the touch as his breath hitched. He moaned quietly and it was a longing, almost sweet sound.

"Tony... _ah -_ \- that feels good..."

"Mmm-hmm," hummed Tony, continuing his ministrations, running his tongue over Steve.  He was slippery, sinfully juicy, and Tony prodded his eager hole gently, tasting him, all too aware of how turned on he was.  Steve was practically dripping.

It occurred to Tony how unfair it was, in a sense, that omegas were so completely wired for sex.  They had a dick, they had... whatever the hell Gleason had called Steve's ass.... right, cloaca.... and they had those scent glands behind their ears...

Actually, that had all been addressed in Frond's book.  They were evolutionarily designed to be fucked, to get pregnant, to have babies.  When they were in heat, they wanted one thing, and that was completely natural. Tony shoved the thought aside; he hated how Frond managed to make such a convincing argument for treating them like shit.

He focused on licking Steve's hole, tonguing it, letting Steve wiggle under him, Tony's arms wrapped around Steve's legs so he couldn't move too far away.  "Mmmm," he repeated, licking wetly as Steve whimpering above him.

Steve let out another high pitched sound as Tony tugged him closer with his hands around his thighs. The engineer's hands were warm and rough against sensitive skin and Steve didn't think he'd ever tire of the feeling. This...in a strange sense, this almost felt more intimate then when Tony fucked him. Steve had idly thought of Tony doing this before, imagining how good it would feel...but he'd had no idea it would feel _this_ good.

"T-Tony...a-ah..." He arched up into it, letting Tony lift his hips higher for better access. Steve's hands fisted in the sheets either side of his head, his eyes heavy lidded. His dick practically ached for lack of attention. He squirmed under Tony's hold. It felt good, yes, almost too good-- but too much of this would certainly drive Steve insane. Most likely in a good way.

"Please," Steve whimpered. "Please just give it to me-- _ah_.  C'mon, Tony.  You gotta give me somethin' here."

Tony felt a smile tug at his lips; when Steve got turned on, _really_ turned on, his Brooklyn accent crept in, and Tony loved that, loved the loose, brash feel of it, compared to Steve's normally well-spoken, neatly composed speech.

He made no move to shift his position; if anything, his grip on Steve's thighs tightened a little, and he kept lapping Steve's entrance with his tongue, in long, sensuous brushstrokes.  Steve's muscles were tight under his hands and Steve's hole kept flexing, desperate to be filled, glistening invitingly.

"Mmmm... good boy... so juicy..." teased Tony.  Steve was arching, whimpering almost continuously, and a quick, lazy glance up showed Tony what he would have known without looking; Steve was rock-hard, his cock weeping precum, and his hips kept twitching, seeking either something to go inside him or something to put himself inside of.

Tony had no intention of letting him off that easily.

In theory, Steve could very easily pull out of Tony's grip and take what he wanted. Or at least, actually get himself off properly. But in reality Steve was putty in Tony's hands and he would never push against hisAlpha's own hold; never in bed, anyway. And it wasn't because Steve didn't feel like he could-- he _liked_ it. He liked Tony's warm and rough hands on his body, moving him and holding him wherever he wanted the omega to be.

The way Tony teased at his hole had him practically quivering. Steve was a desperate mess and he couldn't stop letting out small, high-pitched little sounds every time Tony dove back in for more.

"P-Please.. you gotta... you g-gotta--" His Brooklyn accent was back full force now. Steve's chest was rising and falling a little heavily too as he struggled to catch his breath. It was too much. Tony was going to drive him crazy with all this teasing. Of course, he'd teased Steve before but...never down _there_. He whined loudly.  "Whatever," he panted. "Whatever you want. I'll do it, just...just p-please Tony, God. Get inside me already."

Tony let out a soft laugh, dragging his tongue up to Steve's balls.  "Cum for me," he murmured. "Cum for me first, then I'm going to take you and make you cum again."  He dipped back down, running his tongue over and over Steve's slit; his own cock was stiff from Steve's smell and taste and desperate noises of want, but Tony didn't want to stop until he felt Steve's body shudder with release.  Every time Steve begged Tony had to hold back the urge to release himself all over the sheets; his mate's pleas were the sweetest thing. And even though Tony was nowhere near Steve's neck, he could smell-taste that pheromonal song that was Steve's body begging to be used, that smell that Tony had first smelled when Steve went into heat, the reason they were bonded in the first place, that scent-mate compatibility that only Alphas and omegas ever found, and only ever rarely.

"Tony-- _Alpha_. _Come on_. You can't-- you can't leave a guy hangin'."

"Go ahead and cum, and then I'll clean you up," said Tony, dragging his tongue slowly up Steve's vent, up his balls, up his shaft, letting him know exactly _how_ he intended to clean him, before going back down.  Steve was literally dripping, and every time Tony pushed his tongue against Steve's opening, Steve's body shuddered and Steve babbled some cute little pleas in that harsh Brooklyn accent, and Tony was rubbing himself against the sheets, eager to put it into him, to let Steve's spent body milk the knot and drink his seed and get used by him all over again.

Steve trembled and shook under Tony's tongue. He whined in both relief and frustration as his mouth traversed over Steve's prick and then back down to his hole. He was practically quaking with pleasure, blue eyes glazed over and unseeing as he tilted his head back in his effort to push himself up into Tony's touch. He was teetering on the edge. But it was Tony's voice that tipped him over it.

He cried out as Tony's tongue moved back up to tease at his balls and cock.  Steve's body tensed impossibly and then jerked.  Steve came, his knuckles white against the sheets. It was bordering on painful, the white hot searing rush of relief that tore through him. He gasped and squirmed, whimpering in pleasure and panting as he came down.

 Tony gave him a second to finish his orgasm, then began lapping away the juice and semen that was all over his thighs and stomach.

Tony's tongue on him felt almost too sensitive now and Steve squirmed even more under the touch as the other fulfilled his promise to clean him up.

Even without the glands on the back of his neck, Steve was floating. His eyes were shiny and he was aware of nothing but Tony's hands and mouth on him. "Fuck." He whispered. "Oh, gawd." They both knew Steve was sensitive, more than most, but that had been especially...

Tony glanced up at Steve's face; Steve was practically crying with pleasure, overly-sensitive.

Tony felt very slightly mad with power.  Steve Rogers, reduced to a quivering, putty-like mess beneath him: no one had ever gotten  o see this side of Captain America and Tony was delighted with it.

He sat up and tugging Steve's hips toward him.  "Ready for round two?" he asked, nudging Steve's entrance with his head.  

Steve sighed quietly as Tony pulled him closer, his legs loosely wrapping around the other's hips as he felt Tony's own arousal press up against him. His vision was a little blurry and his eyes were wet as he looked up at Tony. His cheeks were wet too. Had he been... crying? Huh.

Steve was tight from his release, but still soaking wet, and the moment Tony pressed into him, Steve's body responded; Tony pushed the head in, moaning at how smoothly the shaft slid in; beneath him, Steve was whimpering and writhing and had torn a hole into the sheets from clenching them.  "You want my knot?" asked Tony, probing him. "You want it, omega?" He pressed in; Steve's body shuddered, clearly wanting to please.

Steve whimpered as Tony pushed into him and his body accepted the intrusion easily. Steve was still tight around him, though, having taken no fingers beforehand. He could feel every inch of him and his hole clenched at the stretch. When Tony pressed in a little further and adjusted the angle Steve cried out as he grazed over that sweet spot inside of him.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Yes. Y-yes I want it. Please. Alpha. Give it to me. I want your knot. I want your everything."

"Yeah... yeah, you do... my sweet omega slut..." moaned Tony, shoving his knot into Steve.  Steve cried out; Tony's eyes were closed, his hands firm on Steve's hips, and he fucked him lovingly, with reckless abandon, every tug on his knot sending electric jolts of pleasure all the way up his abdomen.  "Fuck... oh, _fuck_ , Steve, Steve, my Stevie, yes..."

He laid down over him, kissing the salt off his cheeks, wriggling his hips, thrusting into Steve with grunts of effort, Steve's body clenching and drawing him in with every rhythmic push.

Tony's knot pushed him to a whole limit that Steve didn't even know he could take. He moaned and he panted as Tony began to fuck into him, his hands moving to curl around his Alpha's shoulders as he moved it closer. Every word Tony spoke was like velvet, his own voice rough with arousal as he took what Steve so very eagerly given.

As Tony kissed over his cheeks Steve curled his legs around him, the heels of his feet digging into the dip of the other's back and drawing the Alpha in impossibly more. Steve groaned and threw his head back, his thighs trembling with the effort of  it all.

"Yes-- _yes_... Alpha. Give it to me. Please. Please I need it." Steve gasped as Tony completely buried himself inside of him, blunt nails digging into Tony's shoulders. "Fuck," he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in bliss as he rocked down onto Tony mindlessly. "That's it-- fill me up. I _need_ it. Please." He was half hard himself already, party due to Tony and partly due to the serum.

"Good boy... good boy, take it... here it is... _yes_... _fuck_!"  The last word was more growl than anything; Tony strained, burying himself up to the base, his whole body spasming.  His and Steve's chests were pressed together and he could feel Steve's partial erection on his stomach but found it strangely erotic even though he'd never really been one for men.  Steve's scent was like its own sexual experience all by itself and Tony found his face buried against Steve's neck, huffing him, licking his skin, lost for a few seconds in the feral pleasure of mating.

"Mmmm," purred Steve.

"Gnn-hn," said Tony incoherently.  He had already ejaculated but was still twitching, rutting into Steve, his knot throbbing pleasurably.  Steve's erection was jabbing into his stomach. "Cum," he managed to gasp at Steve, nosing behind his ear.  "P-please... more... omega..."

Steve's smell was Steve's again.  The Steve Tony had bonded, his omega, _his_.

His brain was offline completely, and it was a wonder he could remember any words at all; most of the ones coming out of his mouth were gasps of Steve's name and pleas for more, because all he cared about, in the moment, was pleasuring his omega, filling him, _owning_ him, _claiming_ him.

"Please more... one more... cum for me... omega... g'boy... g'boy..." huffed Tony against Steve's neck.  He was coming down from his orgasm and was getting a limp, watery, deliciously sleepy sensation. He never felt more comfortable, more at home, when they were like this, tangled together, knotted, one entity, their bond a physical thing.

Steve let out quiet little whines with every roll of Tony's hips. His grip on the other's shoulders loosened, his nails leaving faint crescent shapes in their retreat. One leg fell down by Tony's side, no longer curled around him. Steve felt fuzzy and was only distantly ware of his own erection.

"Tony...you gotta-- you gotta do something. I can't just cum like this." Normally the feeling of Tony coming undone inside of him would be enough. But it had only been twenty minutes or since Steve last came and his body certainly needed more encouragement the second time around. He ran a hand down Tony's arm, not sure if he should do it himself or wait for his Alpha to come around.

"Come on Tony," Steve murmured, voice thick and heady. He tilted his head to the side, offering more skin as Tony nuzzled against it. "Touch me. Please. Anywhere. Just..."

Tony let out a noise (it wasn't a word, wasn't anything but a sound of agreement) and reached between them to wrap his hand around Steve's cock.  It was awkward, trying to jack him off, the two of them still stuck together, but Tony found it, found Steve's shaft and began stroking, working the foreskin back and forth over the head, rolling his thumb over the head.  Steve was smooth and wet with precum and Tony's spit and his cock worked easily in Tony's hand; Steve was bucking under him, fucking his hand, Tony's own dick still buried in him, and both of them were making inhuman sounds of enjoyment.

(Later, Tony would think to himself that it was like a porno, the filthiest kind, the kind where both parties completely degraded themselves and the sexual perversion of it was mouth-watering because of its intimacy.)

This was the sort of sex Tony used to have in the nineties, when he and his partner (or partners) were high on coke and had been partying all night and still wanted more.  This was the kind of sex Tony was famous for. The kind he hadn't had much of, not since Afghanistan.

He found himself biting Steve's neck, but they were facing each other so he couldn't get to the gland, to his mark; instead he was just mouthing any skin he could find, leaving bruises and teeth marks on Steve's ivory flesh, his hand still working Steve's length, Steve's body twitching into it beneath him.

Steve sighed in relief when Tony started stroking him. It was hard to really buck up into the touch with Tony stuck fast inside of him but somehow he managed it. He moaned quietly in appreciation, eyes only half open as he teetered closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure of it burned low in his belly and he didn't quite have the same urgency as before when Tony was eating him out, but he was still very much desperate for it.

The drag of teeth against sensitive skin made him shiver and made Steve's lips part in a gentle gasp. He could feel his orgasm coming, his cheeks flushed and eyes dark. "That's it, Tony. Faster, please--" And when he did speed up, Steve came. He let out a broken sound, spilling over Tony's hand and both their chests, his other leg finally falling back down by Tony's side as he no longer had the energy to keep it up.

He was panting as he caught his breath back, feeling truly wrung out. Steve dozily reached up to run a hand through Tony's hair. "Love you," he murmured, words soft and drawn out as he nuzzled against Tony's cheek. Steve smiled against the skin there. "We... we should do this more often."

"Uhhhh-huh," agreed Tony wearily.  Steve had cum into his hand; seconds later the two of them were limp, soaking into the bed, sweat and semen smeared between them, both panting softly.  Tony was well-aware that he was panting a lot harder than Steve. He was older and Steve was, after all, a workout junkie. But even Steve looked a bit dazed after coming undone twice.

"...shit," he added, a note of smugness in his voice.  "That was _great_.  ...we should've taped that and then leaked it."  He was half-joking. He knew Steve would be mortified by that idea.  But Tony sort of wished there was a way to show the world that, at the age of 40, he was still capable of sexually destroying someone much younger and fitter.  Someone who also happened to be Captain fuckin' America.

"...what happens if I touch your glands now?  Do you like... die?" asked Tony suddenly. He turned his head sleepily.  "JARVIS! What happens if--"

"I would advise against it, sir."

"I will die. Or at least my dick will die. Please...don't," Steve said weakly, leaning his head back against the pillows. There was a pink flush on his cheeks that tinged his neck too.

"I'm just asking, 'cause--"

"Pressing the glands activates an artificial pre-heat.  I advise against any more mating as your pulse is currently 175," reported JARVIS.

"...seriously?  It can't be that high.  ...it's powered by the reactor, though, can't--"

"Drs. Brennan and Brazinski are downstairs for Captain Rogers."

Tony barked out a laugh, nuzzling against Steve's shoulder.  The two of them were both a total mess and they were knotted in a way that meant separation was damned near impossible.

"Fuck. ...I love you, Steve, even if you eventually kill me," said Tony.  He paused, then added, "I've always said I wanted to go out that way.  Naked, with a seven-inch erection."

"Six and three-quarters," corrected JARVIS.

"Mute," snapped Tony.

Steve hummed contently, only paying attention again when JARVIS mentioned his name. He should probably tell the AI to stop calling him 'Captain' but a small part of him liked the title still...and from an AI it didn't really _mean_ anything.

"Brazinski?" Steve echoed, running  a hand over his face. "Which one's that again?"

"Dr. Brazinski is the head of SHIELD's psychology department," said JARVIS.

Steve stared down at where they were joined together. It didn't look like they'd be able to pull apart within the next ten minutes and certainly not without hurting each other. Steve huffed out a soft breath and ran a hand down Tony's bicep, squeezing gently. "I'll grab a quick shower before I go downstairs; pretty sure I'll stink of sex," he murmured. And he really didn't want to subject Brennan, or whoever the other person, was to that.  "Also, no taping. And definitely _no_ leaking; I would never be able to leave the house again.  Now I'm an omega and everyone knows it.  I represent American virtuousness more than I did in the forties," Steve mumbled. "People know we have sex but they don't wanna think about it."

"Don't worry," said Tony, suddenly serious.  He traced patterns into Steve's chest idly with one finger.  "I wouldn't. I know how images are. ...can you fucking imagine if people saw me calling you a slut in bed?  We'd both probably get torn apart by our loving fanbases..."

"Drs. Brennan and Brazinski are willing to wait for you," announced JARVIS.

"We don't work for them anymore... why are they still _bugging_ us?" demanded Tony with irritation.  "...she's the beta one, right?"

"Correct, sir."

"Cool.  Make up some lie for them and Steve'll be down in thirty or forty minutes," said Tony.  He reached behind Steve's neck to stroke the ridges of the scar. His mark. He ignored the bits that weren't his.  "...you know..." he said slowly. "...you know, Eric makes collars... I bet he could find a way to customize mine so it didn't fuck up my hackles so bad.  ...y'know, in case we go to any more conferences." He stifled a yawn. "I'm gonna pass out now... just roll me off of you when my knot's down. Have fun with the shrinks," he said, resting his head onto Steve's shoulder.  As usual, the height difference was noticeable, but Tony found he didn't care much at the moment.

"I remember her," Steve said. The last time they'd seen her was when Tony had found out about Bucky. That felt like such a long time ago now...back then they hadn't even really known Bucky was alive. Steve envied that ignorance.

Tony tracing the scar behind his neck made him shiver. "I really hope we don't ever have to go to one of those conferences again. We got our info and we made our point. Though if there is another we should ask the staff to hand over names, so we know who the assholes are." Steve reached up to run a hand through Tony's hair and kissed his head. "Sleep well Tony."

"Won't be the same without you here."

"I can come back up, after I talk to the doctors."

"Mm'kay."  Tony yawned, stretching his hackles.

"...hey, Tony?  If there was another conference or a big project or whatever... you'd support me, right?" asked Steve tentatively.  Tony saying he never wanted to attend another one again worried him.

"What?  Yeah, of course.  Whatever, Steve.  I'll support you no matter what.  I'm your Alpha, aren't I?  We're bonded.  You're stuck with me.  Literally, currently."

Steve smiled.  "I'm lucky I met you.  Almost think it was worth ending up in the future."

" _Almost_?"

"...it _was_ worth it," Steve corrected himself.  "Meeting you, and being alive to fight today's fights.  Yeah.  It's all been worth it."


End file.
